Back to Avalon
by devilherdue
Summary: After a fated run-in with John Winchester ten years ago, Eddie knew she wanted to be a hunter. Now a man with Yellow Eyes says he has plans for her. Seeking answers, she sets out on a cross-country search for John - but finds his sons first. Season 1.
1. Prologue: Garden Of

**Disclaimer:** This fanfic explores an idea I had when I first started watching the series over the past summer. Time and sanity willing, it is set to span from Season 1 to Season 5. Mostly follows the canon storyline, though hearty liberties will be taken.

Comments and criticism totally welcome.

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**Prologue: Garden Of**

_23 Years Ago_

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The labor was long and painful. Hours passed as the woman screamed on the hospital bed, blood staining the sheets beneath her. He watched where she couldn't see him, though he knew that she wasn't really seeing anything in her delirium anyway. The woman hissed and spat, spittle dribbling on her chin - not unlike the infant she was soon to be bringing into this world. _Oh, the messy wonder of life._

Finally, with one great heave and another gushing spurt of womb-blood, it was over. The child was born, utterly silent. The man stood straighter as he watched the doctors about their work. He didn't trust them. Give him a good midwife any day of the week; those were some biddies that knew the value of guts and dirt and healthy superstition. But he had to rely on these too-clean men and women now, as they fussed, rushing back and forth. Every inch of his stolen body pulled tighter as the seconds passed without a sound from the newborn.

Just as he was about to step in, the cry broke the air: a shrieking, mewling sound that pinched his nerves just so. His lip curled at the noise, but as a palpable relief spread across the room, he found himself sharing the emotion. Still, it wasn't the time for rejoicing, at least not for the doctors: they had the mother to worry about, as she lay in a shallow pool of her own vital fluids.

The babe was whisked away to some other room, and he left standing there dumbly as they tried desperately to fix the woman's insides. A nurse turned to him, began to escort him out. "Mr. Hart, your wife has lost a lot of blood. We're going to need to operate. Please, let me take you to the waiting room."

Instead of chirping, "_Whatever you say Doc!" _ he managed an appropriately somber nod, and let her lead him somewhere else. The human woman had done her job, at least. As long as the kid was okay, she was free to die tangled in a soppy mess of hospital blankets and birthing gore. Her usefulness had expired.

He wasn't waiting very long before another nurse took him to a hallway with windows lining one side. On the other side of the glass wall was a room full of human children, each dressed in assorted pastel wraps. Some twitched and some wailed and others slept. It didn't take him long to locate the important one, though. The little girl-child. He was more than a little disappointed to find that she was shrieking just like the rest of them, small face twisted in surprise and unhappiness. With a frown he looked on, hoping that some kind of grave mistake hadn't been made.

"Have a little faith," he said to himself, and turned as he heard another nurse coming towards him. She smiled broadly, but he saw the note of fear and sorrow there. Things must not have been going so well in the other room.

"Mr. Hart? Your wife is still unconscious, and we're doing everything we can." He nodded, already weary of pretending that he cared. "Your daughter, however, is very healthy and doing just fine." This, really, was all he needed to know. He nodded again, feigning shellshock and hoping the young woman would leave. It worked. As she turned to go, however, he called her back.

Without taking his eyes off of the squirming bundle all that way in the back, he said in a low voice: "Her name is Eden. That's what we wanted to name her." A lie, really, but it wasn't like the mother would care.

"Eden," the nurse repeated, throwing him another one of those nervous smiles. "Yes, that's very pretty. I'll make sure it's on her record."

"Thank you."

As the nurse turned and hurried back down the hallway, the screams of more pregnant women filled the air. The lone man by the nursery smiled very slowly, looking down on his fragile prize. "I'll be seeing you." The eyes reflected back in the glass burned yellow for the length of a heartbeat. Then he turned and walked down the busy halls of a hospital in Phoenix, Arizona with howls of agony following him out.


	2. Gimme Shelter Pt 1

**A/N: **As a head's up, I realized this might be an issue. I haven't finished Season 5; I'm about halfway through. So basically, no spoilers please, ladies and gents. =)

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**Chapter One: Gimme Shelter**

** (Part One)**

_10 Years Ago

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_

The skinny figure made its way down the winding highway, boots kicking at loose rocks as she went. A nondescript baseball cap was pulled low over her brow, and a ponytail with a shock of dark hair escaped from the back. A heavy jacket a couple sizes too big protected her from most, if not all, of the chill. There weren't many streetlights in this area of Utah, close to the Rockies, but the moon was full in the sky and that was light enough. She whistled as she walked, and tried to ignore the grumbling in her stomach; she'd eaten her last Kitkat bar a few miles back.

The rumbling of her empty stomach was soon overtaken by a distant, more mechanical growling. Turning, she saw the two headlights flare around a bend of the forest a hundred feet back. The glare of the highbeams bounced and washed over her, blinding her stupid for a moment. Worried about being dumbstruck in the middle of the road like a deer, she stumbled towards what she hoped was the side. As she blinked away the spots in her eyes, she noticed the car slow down until it stopped next to her.

The car was pretty slick, the kind that you'd see parked at car conventions. Which didn't mean whoever was driving wasn't a creep. She began walking again, and the car kept pace with her, the passenger-side window rolling down. Her toes curled in her too-big boots, and the girl prepared to dart into the underbrush. If that didn't work, she had a knife tucked into her boot, too.

"What are you doing out here?" The voice that came out was gruff, but not malicious.

"Walking," she said with as much attitude as she could muster, continuing to move forward.

"It's not safe out here." The car continued to purr alongside of her. She turned to roll her eyes at him, making a disgusted noise in her throat. As if _that_ was going to work. But the eyes that met hers were paternal, not creepy. The driver was a guy in his thirties, with what looked like a two-week old beard. He leaned across the passenger seat, his brow furrowed as he spoke to her. "Look, where are you going? I'll drive you."

She bit at her lip, looking back up and down the road. There were dangers to hitching, she wasn't stupid. And trusting this guy was probably a bad idea. But she knew how to read a map and it was a long ways to the next motel.

"We don't have to talk. I've got a couple sandwiches in the back. I think I have a Pepsi or two."

"You're not a serial killer, are you?" She asked, rubbing one arm absently.

The skin around his eyes crinkled benevolently. The guy even laughed under his breath, smiling warmly. "You've got nothing to worry about. Hop in." Without hesitating much longer - there was a sensation of being watched that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end - she opened the down and plopped down onto the passenger seat. The guy reached over her. Adrenaline dumped into her system, but before she could react, he pulled the seatbelt across her and snapped it into place, locking her door at the same time. She watched wide-eyed as he reached into the backseat, expecting him to pull out a roaring chainsaw or an axe. Instead, he came back with a saran-wrapped deli sub and a can of Coke (not Pepsi) balanced between the fingers of one large hand.

"It's ham and cheese, if that's okay." She stared at them for a while before taking them. Her stomach growled again, and he laughed.

"Thanks," she replied sheepishly. Without waiting for him to decide otherwise, she scarfed it down, only thinking about if it was _poisoned_ after the whole thing was on its way to her stomach. The guy stole sidelong glances at her, smirking every now and then. She noticed that when he wasn't looking at her, though, his eyes were scanning the deep woods on either side of the road. His hands gripped the wheel tightly.

He must have seen her watching him, because he put on a smile and looked back at her. "What's your name, anyway?"

She took a long gulp of the ultra-sweet soda, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Eddie."

"_Eddie?"_ He asked incredulously, eyebrows raising high on his face in amusement. She scowled, which only made him smile wider.

"It's short for _Eden_, is that _okay_ with you?"

He barked a laugh. "Yeah, that's okay with me. But Eden is such a pretty name, I don't know why you need a nickname." _Besides,_ he stopped himself from adding, '_Eddie' actually has more letters than Eden. _She glowered at him in response. "All right, Eddie it is."

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. "Why, what's your name?" The girl finally asked, still sipping at her Coke.

His eyes flicked over to her, before he turned his head. "John."

"Well, nice to meet you John. I like your car."

John started to say something, but he was stopped short by an inhuman cry that was loud even with the windows rolled all the way up.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

For the past few months, reports of gruesome wild animal attacks along this highway spiked around every full moon. The corpses of the victims were found by passerby the morning after, torn to pieces on the side of the road. All signs pointed to a werewolf, and John had been tracking one since yesterday, which had led into the first night of the cycle.

When he'd spotted the girl on the side of the road, his heart nearly stopped. Ultimately, John was glad that she'd agreed to let him give her a ride, because if she'd refused, he wasn't looking forward to chasing her down and throwing her in the backseat. But he definitely wasn't about to let a little girl hitch to the next town, let alone along this stretch of road, at night.

He saw her eyes go wide when his quarry howled, and he thought she was scared (as she should be) until he heard the excitement in her voice. "Are there _wolves_ out here?" The girl spun in her seat, pressing both palms and her face to the glass of the window.

"Hey, sit down." It came out harsher than he meant it to, but she did turn and sit back down in her seat. Her ponytail was still pointed at him as she watched intently out the window. "Why don't you wipe your hands off with this?" John handed her his flask of holy water and a mostly clean napkin. The werewolf wasn't going anywhere, and rules were rules. Having them was no good if he didn't follow them.

Reluctantly, she turned back towards him. Taking the bottle with a skeptical look, she asked sternly, "Is this booze?"John smiled in spite of himself. Eddie - he couldn't get over that unfortunate name - unscrewed the cap and gave the contents a tentative sniff.

"No, it is not _booze_. Just wash your hands before you get mustard on my window."

"Whatever you say." She mumbled, and neatly began wiping her hands down after dampening the napkin with the holy water. There was no smoke, no yelps of pain. There were other tests, sure, but she wasn't a demon. And that flask was make out of pure silver, so she wasn't a shifter wearing some kid's skin. "So," Eddie asked, eyes lighting up again. "Are there really wolves here?"

"Probably. Why do you want to see a wolf so bad? Shouldn't you be afraid they'll eat you?"

Eddie snorted. "Wolves don't eat people," she informed him, as it it was common knowledge. "They're more afraid of us than we are of them."

"I'll keep that in mind," John replied under his hunt was over for tonight. He could come back tomorrow, after he got the girl somewhere safely away from here. It was a shame; the werewolf might know that a hunter was onto him now, and flee the area. If he didn't get the bastard tomorrow, it'd be another month. And the creature could be anywhere by then.

As they came around the next bend in the road, however, John's stomach twisted. Pulled over onto the shoulder was a car with its emergency lights blinking. Next to him, Eddie sat up in her seat, hands setting on the dashboard. "Whoa. Whoa!"

John hit the brakes, the Impala coming to a bumpy halt next to the broken down car. There wasn't any blood that he could immediately see, which was a good sign, but he didn't exactly have much time to look. "Stay. Here."

Something bumped the car, and a man suddenly slammed both hands down on the hood. "Help me, you've got to help, there's something after me!" There was a cut on his face and blood had trickled from his temple. His clothes were tattered, and he left muddy hand prints on the polished black surface. "It's not- _Christ!" _Without finishing, he sprinted away towards the woods.

Eddie was still leaning forward when something larger landed on the hood of the car. For a perfectly terrible moment, the werewolf turned back to look at them. No, not at them. At _her._ It snarled, all piercing eyes and fangs, back-lit by the headlights and the full moon. Then, it refocused on its fleeing prey, launching itself off the hood of the car. John had a moment to reflect on the fact that he was going to need to get that dent banged out.

She was frozen in her spot, breath still fogging up the front window, until the werewolf disappeared into the tree line."What was that?" She asked, already unbuckling her seatbelt. Damned kids and their damned TV. Why couldn't they ever just be properly _afraid_ of something? "That wasn't _human_-"

John reached over, rebuckled her seatbelt, and roughly grabbed her shoulders. They felt tiny and delicate in his hands, and when those two big brown eyes looked into his, all he could think was, _My God, she's Sammy's age._ "Promise me you'll stay here," he ordered her, fingers tightening. "_Promise."_

There was a defiant edge in her expression, but it melted under his more practiced stare. "Okay. I promise."

"Good. Take this." He reached into the dashboard and pulled out a handgun, pre-loaded with silver bullets. He handed it to her butt first, and for a moment she looked like she was more likely to burst into tears than take it from him.

"Wh-what do you want me to-"

"Just stay here. And if that thing comes back, you shoot it if it comes near you. Don't waste bullets." His hands moved over hers, gently but firmly moving her grip to where it should be. "Hold it with both hands. Pull the trigger hard. It'll kick back, so be ready. Keep your arms strong."

Her eyes got wider and wider as she listened to him, and where there had been a stubborn curiosity before, real terror began to edge in. "I can't-"

"You can. Don't open this door for anyone but me, and if you see anything, you scream, do you hear me? You scream as loud as you can, and I will come." She was shaking under his hands, and John couldn't help but hate himself for it. But there would be time for that later. He'd be lucky if that guy was still in one piece. Grabbing another pistol with silver bullets from the backseat, he opened the door. He locked the door from the inside, and turned back to her. "I will come back. Just stay here, and remember what I said."

"But-"

"I'll come back!" He cut her off, slamming the door shut and racing off in the direction of the feral beast.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

Eddie waited. And waited. The longer she sat there, the more agitated she became. What was that thing? It hadn't been human, and she didn't need anyone to tell her that. She wasn't yet at the age where it was easier to deny (rather than accept) the existence of monsters when they stared you in the face.

From the woods, Eddie could hear that guy screaming... and when he stopped, she didn't feel relieved. Biting her bottom lip, she held the gun tighter. A moment later, a gunshot rang out, and there was a high-pitched shriek of pain. Another gunshot.

Silence.

Until she heard a low growl from ride outside her door. Eddie didn't have time to scream before the glass broke, and she was pulled roughly through the window. The padding in her puffy jacket saved her from most of the glass shards, as the talon-like nails of the thing that wrenched her out. Then it was on her, swiping with impossible strength, and she did her best to cover her face. Her hand clenched around the gun and in a blind shot she fired. It didn't hit the creature on top of her, but the sound did momentarily stun it. She was able to wriggle half-free, taking a few stumbling steps before it was on her again.

As the beast knocked her back to the asphalt, the wind rushed out of her lungs and the gun skittered against the street. _I'm dead, _Eddie thought definitively. _I'm dead._

But she didn't want to die. She didn't want to be killed by this thing on a dark road. She didn't want that guy John to have to see her dead body. More than anything, though, she didn't want to fail him. She was supposed to stay in the car.

Though it felt like her leg was going to be torn off, Eddie was able to bring her knee up between her and the creature. It's claws sliced through her jeans and she cried out as warm blood quickly soaked the denim around her knee and thigh. But it was enough: she reached for the blade pressed closed to her skin, between her sock and her boot. With a last desperate shove that took all of her strength, she pushed the thing off of her long enough to press the button that caused the blade to snap out, fast as a snake.

As a mouth full of crooked fangs came down towards her, Eddie plunged all four inches of the blade into the monster's side.


	3. Gimme Shelter Pt 2

**A/N: **Next up, present day! Well, present day, Season One.

* * *

**Chapter One: Gimme Shelter**

**(Part Two)**

_10 Years Ago

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_

John was walking back, cursing the poor fool who had decided to run _into_ the forest to escape a werewolf. The man was dead now; the werewolf had been gnawing on what was left of his throat when John finally reached them. At least there wouldn't be any more attacks. He rubbed his face with one hand, feeling older than he ought to. Which was when he heard the gunshot, and the snarling.

He didn't waste time kicking himself for not thinking that there could be another werewolf. He didn't let himself do anything but charge back towards the parked cars. He broke through the trees just in time to see Eddie knocked to the ground, and the gun, her only hope, go flying. John was a good marksman, but there was no way he could get a clear shot from this distance - especially not when they were so close together. Now he was going to have to watch the little girl, the little girl would could be Sammy, get eviscerated by a thing that shouldn't exist outside of horror movies.

"EDEN!" He shouted, and there was a glint of something that flashed in the moonlight before disappearing back into the tangle of bodies. The werewolf let out an ear-splitting howl; but it was from pain, not triumph. John, still sprinting towards them, felt his jaw go slack as the creature slumped down off of the girl. Its legs kicked a few times, but it was dead by the time she climbed to her feet. She was holding something in her hand, but she was covered in blood and he couldn't tell what it was.

John skidded hard onto his knees as he ran up to her, knowing they'd be bruised later. He couldn't care less. "Are you okay? Did it bite you?" Frantically, he began to check her. She had a couple bad scratches on her leg, and her coat was shredded - white stuffing going everywhere - but when he unzipped that and pulled it off of her she was miraculously untouched beneath it. Her cheek had a bit of road rash from hitting the unforgiving surface, but other than that, she was better than most anyone that had a face to face encounter with a werewolf.

He held her shoulders, and she looked at him, lip trembling. Carefully, he took the object from her hand. It was the hilt of a switchblade, the knife broken off. Partly because of curiosity, but mostly because his training insisted he know the thing was dead for good, John leaned over and checked the stab wound. It started close the werewolf's armpit, but pierced in towards the heart. Carefully, he pulled out the blade with his fingertips. When he held it up to the brightness cast by his headlights, it gleamed true even from under the blood. Pure silver.

John finally looked back at the girl shaking like a leaf in front of him. Her eyes were wet but she wasn't crying, and she was biting down so hard on her bottom lip that he was surprised she wasn't bleeding. "Why didn't you scream?" He asked gently, imploringly, feeling his own eyes water.

"I couldn't." The tears came spilling out of her dark eyes, leaving tiny trails of cleanliness that cut through the blood and dirt on her face. "I c-couldn't," she sobbed, and John pulled her into him. "I'm s-sorry," she said into his chest, words muffled. Eddie was crying in earnest now, and he rubbed her back and stroked her hair, cradling her into him.

"It's okay, it's okay," he reassured her tenderly. It was more than okay. It'd probably saved her life. That, and the silver switchblade she'd apparently been carrying. But John pushed that out of his mind; she was safe, the monsters were dead, and he was done being a hunter for today.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

"Tell me again who you're staying with," John asked, looking into the rearview mirror.

"A friend from school who moved. Her parents are rich and they're never around and they won't care." Eddie replied, clearly getting tired of telling him this. He knew that she was an orphan, and that'd made being a runaway understandable, in a way. John wanted to do what was best for her, and if she was staying with a friend, he couldn't say he didn't think that was better than being thrown back into the system. It was clear that Eddie didn't have the taste for that, and she'd just end up on the road again, and sooner rather than later.

"All right."

After several more rounds of this, he watched Eddie yawn loudly. Her cap was long gone, left back with the werewolf she'd killed, and she'd let her hair free of its ponytail. It was dark and about as untamed as she was, falling well past her shoulders. Definitely in need of a trim.

He'd given her his jacket to replace hers, and it sat comically big on her slight frame. All the same, she had seemed pleased with the trade, and had taken to exploring the many pockets (which he'd carefully emptied beforehand). The leather creaked a little every time she moved, and she kept testing its pliancy.

Eventually the yawns led to closed eyes led to curled up in the backseat of his car. The sun was shining brightly now, as if to make up for the traumatizing night, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she fell asleep.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was hazy and tired.

"Where did you get that knife?"

"Some guy gave it to me at a gas station," she answered, yawning again and rubbing her eyes. She was already on the border of sleep.

"Do you always take weapons from strangers?" He asked jokingly, though it still didn't explain why anyone would give a switchblade to a child, or where they'd even get one with a silver blade.

"He was... different." Her brow creased, her voice lilting as she fell asleep. "He had... yellow... eyes..." Her lips stayed slightly parted, and her breathing shallowed out, falling into the hard and fast sleep of innocent youth.

Meanwhile, John felt a chill come over his body. Suddenly, the daylight didn't seem as welcoming as before.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

Eddie was quietly reading the journal to herself. She'd found it under the back seat, and even though she consumed books voraciously (libraries were free, after all), she'd never seen one that was leather-bound before. Feeling like an adventurer, she'd begun to pour through the pages. The nap in the backseat hadn't been all that comfortable or restful, but she was tired of sleeping.

"Vampires are real too?" She finally exclaimed. She hadn't understood a lot of it, or recognized many of the monsters John talked about here, but vampires she understood. And he'd already told her (after much needling) that the things they killed were werewolves. Eddie still wasn't sure about that. They hadn't been all that furry or particularly wolf-like. But apparently, judging by this book, he did this sort of thing for a living.

"What?" John half-turned, and did a double take when he saw the book in her hands. "Hey! Stop reading that!" He made an awkward grab for it from the driver's seat, and she instinctively pulled back.

"Why? Is _all_ of this stuff real?"

"Put that down. That's not yours."

"I have a right to know!"

"No, you don't. Give that to me. Now."

Eddie scowled at him, still clutching the journal. "Are ghosts really scared of iron and salt?"

"No, they're not scared of it, it just scatters them so they can't pass through it. It takes a while for them to reform. Give me-"

"So how do you kill one?" It was a trick question. Eddie had already read that part. You had to burn their bones, which struck her as really inconvenient.

John's eyes met hers in the rearview. "Do you think this is a game?"

"No." Her reply was quick and curt and just as obstinate as his question. "A monster almost killed me, I know it's not a game."

"If you want to know how to protect yourself, you can start by not hitch-hiking alone at night."

Eddie's expression turned sour. She knew he was trying to ward her away from this stuff, and with good reason. But whether he liked it or not, she knew what was out there now. And according to his book, it didn't stop at werewolves. "_You_ don't do it to protect yourself. You do it to protect other people." He looked at her again, and he was harder to read this time. "Look," she finally said, setting the book in her lap. "You can tell me, or I can go to the library and just find out all the _wrong_ stuff. But you can't stop me from knowing that monsters are real."

He considered this for a while, before finally answering her. "You kill a ghost by either burning its bones, or any remnants of its body that are left behind, like locks of hair."

"And vampires can walk in the sun?"

"They don't like to, but yes."

"Who are Sam and Dean?" Eddie saw the surprise on the small rectangle of his face that was reflected in the mirror. "You mention them sometimes."

"They're my sons," he told her slowly.

"You have kids?" She asked with a laugh. "Do they do this too? Monster-slaying?"

"It's called hunting." He didn't answer her last question. Eddie bit her lip.

"What are they like?" She hoped it was a less sensitive question.

John was quiet for a long time, but he eventually responded. "Dean's my oldest. He watches after his little brother. A bit cocky, but he knows his stuff. Sammy's about your age. He's quieter. A smart kid." Eddie digested this, nodding. She wondered what it would be like, to grow up with a dad as cool as John. Sam and Dean sounded pretty lucky to her.

"It's not something anyone chooses, Eddie." John turned in his seat, looking her in the eyes momentarily. "It's not something anyone _wants_ to live their life doing. Now please, give me back my journal."

Reluctantly, she did. They didn't talk for a while after that, and she slouched further down into John's leather jacket. Even though she knew he didn't want her to, Eddie imagined a life of, what had he called it? _Hunting._

Driving around in a cool car, saving people, fighting monsters... being a hero, being strong, being important.

She dozed off again.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

"See, I told you she was real." Eddie came back over to the car after her friend had opened the front door and waved. Yes, Eddie's friend was real. Which meant that John's duty here was done. Crossing her arms over the rolled down window, she rested her chin there. "Are you really leaving?" The longing in her eyes was enough to break his heart, and John nodded. She frowned, and he gestured her away from the door. Sulking, she backed away, and he got out.

"I want you to take this," he said, and handed a note to her. "It's the number of my cell phone-"

"You have a cell phone?" Her face scrunched up, eyes narrowing against the glare of the sun over his shoulder. He stepped sideways to block it, and the furrow in her brow smoothed out.

"Yeah. It's only for emergencies. If you ever need me, though, you call me straight away. I want you to memorize this number." He handed her the folded slip of paper. She took it with a serious expression, and nodded, before shoving the paper deep into her front pocket. "I also want you to have this. It's not silver, but I figure since yours broke, we should replace it." He handed her a knife in a leather sheath; Eddie was much more impressed with this gift, and immediately reached to take it from her hands. She pulled the blade from its sheath, turning it over a few times, before putting it away again. This she jammed down into her other pocket.

"You should take your coat back..." Eddie began to shuffle inside of his jacket, but he put a hand on her shoulder.

"You can keep that too."

"Really?" She asked, smiling broadly at him.

"Really." Without another word, Eddie took the knife back out of her jeans and began searching for a new pocket inside of the jacket to store it away. John leaned over, and helped her slide it into what had been his favorite spot. She looked up at him, and he knew he had to leave. If he didn't, he'd end up packing across the country with another kid in his backseat.

Before he could go, though, he had to do something. "Give me a hug." She obliged, jumping up to wrap her small arms around his neck. He lifted her up, holding her closely to him. Part of him had really been hoping for a girl when Sammy was born. Of course, he'd never have breathed a word of that aloud. Dean wouldn't have let his brother live it down. John kissed the girl's hair, which had been warmed by the sun. "Take care of yourself."

"You take care of _your_self," she responded. It took all of his willpower to put her back down and let go. Not letting himself linger, he climbed back into the Impala. When he revved the engine, she came back towards the window.

"Hey wait." He looked up at her. "What's your real name? Like, your whole name?"

"John Winchester."

"All right, John Winchester. My name's Eden Hart."

"It was nice to meet you, Eddie."

"You too. Will I see you again?"

"Yes." John said it quickly, without tempering himself. Squinted, nodding at him again. "Until then, be good."

"I will," Eddie replied with a half-smile that promised anything but. As he pull out of the driveway, she waved. He could see her standing at the end of the street, watching him leave, until he finally turned back onto the highway.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

_Eddie stepped out of the gas station, popping the lid of a can of orange soda. It wasn't name brand, but it tasted okay enough when she lifted it to her mouth. The air was cool but the sun was bright, and __she decided that she'd just start walking to where she was going. She'd probably make it there in about two days if she hitched._

_A man stepped out beside her as she came around the corner of the gas station, startling her. Immediately she shirked sideways, glaring at him. The man smiled and raised his hands to show that he didn't mean any harm. "I apologize - didn't mean to scare you there."_

"_You didn't scare me."_

"_Of course not," he smiled, and the sight of it made her stomach turn. "What's a young thing like you doing travelling alone?"_

_Eddie felt her fingers tighten around the aluminum can, and it crinkled slightly in her hand. "None of your business. Get lost," she added in her most defiant tone, and began walking again. There was a crunch of the guy's shoes on the loose gravel as he followed her. When she couldn't stand it anymore, Eddie spun, lips pulled back over her teeth in a snarl. "Look mister, I don't know what you want, but you _better _leave me alone-"_

_The guy stopped. He was perfectly ordinary looking, but there was something unsettling about him. He smiled that same, sickly smile. "That's no way to talk to someone who wants to give you a gift."_

"_I don't want anything from you." Eddie glowered. They were still right next to gas station. She began to think about screaming._

"_Aw, now don't say that, princess. You don't even know what the gift is, and you'll definitely want it." Just when her lips parted to shout, he pulled something from his pocket. With a small flourish, a blade flicked out. A switchblade. It probably should have made her more worried, but something about the guy's voice, his smile, and the glint of the metal under the sun stayed her. As if under a spell, Eddie stepped forward towards the hunched figure. "What did I tell you?" He asked gently, snapping the blade back down until it was harmlessly tucked into the hilt._

_Her hand had already extended, reaching for the object, when Eddie realized what she was doing. She snatched her hand back. "What do you want?"_

"_Me? Nothing. Well, that's not true. I just want to know that you'll be safe out there, princess." _

"_Stop calling me princess."_

_His lips pursed, a flash of irritation across his features before he gave her another greasy smile. Without saying anything, he extended one hand, holding the knife out to her. "Go ahead, take it."_

_Eddie licked her lips, and then in one smooth motion, reached forward and snatched the knife. As soon as her fingers closed around it, their hands touching briefly, something happened. His eyes changed. They turned mottled and yellow, and she stumbled backwards. _

_By the time she looked up at him again, his eyes were normal. She wanted to tell herself that it'd just been the light, but the knot in her stomach said otherwise. Still, the man didn't make any motion towards her. Eddie just wanted to leave. "Well, thanks." _

"_Don't mention it." She eyed him for a few more steps, then forced herself to stop looking back. "Stay safe, Eden."_

_It was all she could do not to break into a run._


	4. The Benders Pt 1

**A/N: **Pretty much every TV show has a Most Dangerous Game episode, doesn't it?

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Benders**

******(Part One)

* * *

**

Eddie had watched them stab the wounded man to death with what looked like rusty pikes and pitchforks. It took every ounce of common sense she had not to rush in there, pistol blazing. And she _still_ would have, if it hadn't been so clear how dead the guy was either way. Their cackling laughs had made her want to throw up, but she hadn't dared make a noise until they were gone. "I hope the other one puts up more'uva fight," one of the toothless hicks snickered. Eddie hid, belly to the forest floor. They'd kidnapped someone else.

It was daylight now, and she had made a loose perimeter around the run down house where the murderous hillbillies lived. _Sickos,_ she snarled in the back of her mind. There were dark circles under her eyes; sleeping out here hadn't exactly been comfortable, and that was when she could get any sleep at all. She kept waking up to find herself remembering she was a part of some Most Dangerous Game nightmare.

Kneeling in the soil of the underbrush, Eddie's ears twitched. They were coming back. After watching for a few minutes, she saw a couple of the dirty guys drag a woman back into the house. Something fell out of her pocket. Eddie leaned up on her toes to see what it was, trying to stay as hidden in her current bush as possible. Laying on the dirt was a badge; Eddie might not have known what it was, if it weren't for the fact that she carried so many fakes herself. Cop.

"Jesus, you _must_ be some stupid sons of bitches. Cops?" Eddie whispered to herself, backing away. That meant there were two people captured now. She needed a plan. She couldn't just sprint to the rescue. God, she hated planning. Eddie rubbed her temples, curling her back into the trunk of a tree. She was still trying to think of something when she noticed in movement in the underbrush further off. It was too big and moved too purposefully to a dog. It might have been a deer. She couldn't take the chance.

Carefully, Eddie slunk past the location. She circled back around the suspicious location, and was rewarded for her efforts. A guy poked his head out, intent on the ramshackle house. Even if he wasn't hiding in the bushes, he was too clean to be one of them. _Civilians,_ Eddie grumbled internally, and moved towards him.

But she must have underestimated him. Just as she was about to clap a hand over his mouth, and tell him to get lost, he spun, grabbing her wrist. Ironically enough, his other hand clamped down over her own mouth. He looked surprised at what he'd caught, however, and frowned.

"Don't you scream," the guy ordered quickly. She glared back at him, and tapped the pistol she'd unholstered against his knee. He glanced down, saw the gun, and looked back at her without letting go. There was a new edge to his gaze. "You'd better not fire that."

When she jerked her head away, he let her go. She slipped the pistol back into its holster. Peaking around his shoulder at the house again, she crawled up closer. "What are you doing here?" She growled, aware that he hadn't looked anywhere other than at her. When her eyes met his again, there was a shared flash of recognition. Eddie didn't have time to place him.

"What am _I_ doing here? I'm- I'm a cop."

"Show me your badge." Eddie was almost positive that there was a smirk there, before he dug into his jeans and retrieved a badge. He let it flop down, and she inspected it until he quickly folded it back up and put it back.

"I'm investigating a Missing Persons, what are _you_ doing here?" The conversation was carried out in low and hurried whispers.

"You're not cop." Eddie checked the house again. Still no movement.

"What makes you say-"

"Badge is fake." She reached into her jacket, and showed him _her_ fake police ID. "Takes one to know one."

His eyebrows rose. "Touche," he said quietly. "So what _are_ you doing here?"

"They've got at least two people in there, and they plan to kill them. I'm going to stop it. What about you?" She looked over at him momentarily, and again the back of her mind itched with the question of how she knew him.

"One of those people is my brother."

"Then I guess we better work fast, huh?"

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

They snuck in through the basement. The guy crawled in first, and Eddie slid in after him, her stomach getting scratched by peddles and dead leaves - she silently hoped that she wouldn't get tetanus from touching any of this stuff. He helped her down, and they began to search around the darkened room. As if synchronized, they both took out penlights, and then proceeded to give each other identical questioning glances. Eddie made a face, and quickly moved to start investigating. After a couple minutes, she realized that her partner had stopped in front of some sort of vanity or dresser or something. Taped to the mirror were a few dozen Polaroid pictures.

Stepping closer, she moved beside him. It took her a few seconds to realize what she was seeing. They were all pictures of these sick scumbags posing with the bodies of the people they'd killed. Next to her, the guy plucked down a particular picture, turning it so the face of prone corpse was right-side up. "People are crazy," he finally commented, frowning.

"Tell me about it," she replied quietly. "Rather it be a boogeyman." Even though she felt him look over at her, she walked away, towards the stairs. "Let's go."

They moved up the stairs and onto the main hall, where some creepy music was playing out of an equally creepy, old-timey record player. As they made their way down the hallway, him in the lead, they spotted a small tin case filled with keys. He reached for it, but quickly drew back. There was someone in the kitchen hacking away at something, and Eddie tried to convince herself that these freaks couldn't be cannibals as well as insane murderers. It didn't really work.

He looked back at her, and she nodded to him. Slowly, she gestured for him to take his time, and leaned against the wall behind her. As much as she wanted to pull her pistol, or at least her knife, she didn't. This house was filled with random crap, and there was too much risk of accidentally knocking something over. She needed both hands free.

The guy picked up a jar of what was filled, grotesquely enough, with human teeth. Eddie wanted to smack him for getting sidetracked, but that was when she heard the floorboards creak beside her. Spinning, she was face to face with a little girl. He must have heard it too, because he was quickly at her side, raising both hands in an I-mean-no-harm stance.

"It's okay, we're not going to hurt you," he said in a low voice.

_We're boned,_ Eddie thought to herself, gauging the girl. She didn't look like a prisoner at all; her eyes were too close together and her teeth were too messed up. She was part of the _family._ Eddie dove forward, but not before the girl shrieked for her "Paw" and chucked a knife at them. The knife, thankfully, hit Eddie handle first and fell the ground without doing any damage. She landed on the girl, the two of them rolling across the floor.

Then things got bad.

Two brutes rushed in, and the fight was on. They were stronger than they had any right to be, and when one clocked her in the jaw, Eddie felt her consciousness blink out. Luckily, it was only momentary, and she came back to reality as she was knocked over a rickety couch. There wasn't any time to check on that guy, but from the glimpses she had it looked like he was holding his own. Neither of them were exactly _winning_ though, and that was pretty troubling.

Eddie twisted onto her feet, and dodged the next haymaker swing towards her gut. The momentum sent her attacker reeling forward, and she brought her knee up hard and fast into his face. His nose exploded, a sudden wet, hot flower of blood painting her jeans. She clasped her hands together, moving to bring them down on his exposed neck. Rather than being stunned like a regular human being, however, her roared like a bull and charged her, knocking her off her feet.

Hitting the ground felt like a cartoon piano had been dropped on her, only it smelled a lot worse. Before he could gain purchase, however, Eddie had pulled her knife. In a short upward swing, she sliced his arm. He howled, reared back to clutch the gash, and she pulled herself out from under his weight. When she turned back to the situation, knife drawn, her stomach dropped at what she saw.

Her friend, or whatever he was, had his arm pinned behind his back. A serrated steak knife was pointed at his side. Next to the brute holding him was another guy. _Pa,_ she thought, sneering as she swallowed the blood from her cut lip. He was holding a rifle, aimed in her direction.

"Why don't you put that pig-sticker down, girlie, before someone here gets hurt?" Pa said. She narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah, and if yeh don't, I'll put this shiv right through Abercrombie and Fitch's ribcage," Brute One chortled.

"I would never shop there," the guy said directly to her - defiantly managing a joke even with a dirty blade pressed on him. As if to emphasize his point, the Brute slowly sank the tip of the knife in, and Abercrombie and Fitch hissed in pain.

"I'm not gonna tell you twice." Pa never stopped looking at her.

Eddie considered her options. Considered them for long enough that Brute One began putting pressure on the knife again. The guy's face twisted in pain, even though he was trying to be stoic. She dropped her weapon, and felt all hope of survival thud to the ground with it. "Ain't that a good girl," Pa snickered meanly. He took two long strides towards her, and the last thing she saw was the butt of a rifle coming down.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
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Dean woke up tied to a chair, surrounded by bloodthirsty yokels. People, man. People were the _worst._ Two of the inbred sons were whining about wanting to hunt him. _Go ahead,_ he wanted to tell them. _See what happens if you let me out of this chair._ The girl outside had told him about the man she'd watched them kill. It was all a little _Missouri Chainsaw Massacre,_ if you asked him.

"You ever killed before?" The leader asked. The one they kept calling Pa.

"Well, that depends on what you mean." There was a heat on his back, and Dean recognized the sound of a crackling fireplace.

"I've hunted all my life. Just like my father, his before him. I've hunted deer and bear—I even got a cougar once. But the best hunt is human. Oh, there's nothin' like it. Holdin' their life in your hands. Seein' the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful alive." Dean wasn't really paying attention. As Halitosis here monologued, Dean did his best to look for the girl without _looking_ like he was looking for her. It took him a second to realize Pa was waiting for some kind of response.

"You're a sick puppy." The girl wasn't far off. She was tied up, just like him, but still blacked out. Her head hung forward, dark hair a mess.

"We give 'em a weapon. Give 'em a fightin' chance. It's kind of like our tradition passed down, father to son. Of course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down, we never been that sloppy."

"Yeah, well, don't sell yourself short. You're plenty sloppy." She'd fought pretty well. Better than that, she'd been downright good. If he hadn't gotten jumped from behind, they might have taken these gnarl-toothed suckers out.

"So, what, you two with that pretty cop? Are you a cop? Who's this bitch?" He pointed at the girl's slumped form.

_Wish I knew, Pa._ Dean smirked. "If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?" He earned a punch from one of the cross-eyed sluggers for that one.

"Only reason I don't let my boys take you right here and now is that there's somethin' I need to know. Tell me—any of the cops gonna come lookin' for you?"

Dean didn't like the look in this guys eyes. He was flying by the seat of his pants, and then some. Attitude might not save him this time, and he wasn't sure if he wanted the girl to wake up or not. She'd been useful, but damn, it'd be a shame to have her come to just to realize how ugly their situation was. "Oh, eat me. No, no, no, wait, wait—you actually might."

The fireplace behind him rustled, and Pa retrieved an iron poker from it. The tip was red hot. "You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family. Alright, you wanna play games? We'll play some games. Looks like we're gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys." Pa turned back to him, nasty as a rattlesnake. "And you get to pick the animal. The boy, the cop, or the bitch?"

The boy. Sammy was here somewhere, locked up, along with Kathleen. And they were going chase one of them down like a pack of dogs. "Okay, wait, wait—look, nobody's coming for me, alright? It's just us."

"You don't choose, I will." Pa tilted the burning hot metal towards him, until it rested against his collarbone. Immediately Dean felt it burn through his shirt, searing his skin. He couldn't help it: he screamed. Even as the poker was removed, he felt his skin blistering.

"You son of a bitch!" He yelled.

"Next time, I'll take an eye." The poker swung around to his face, less than an inch away from the meat of his eyeball. The heat of it evaporated the moisture there, and it was all he could do to keep from blinking.

"Alright, the guy, the guy! Take the guy!" Pa stepped back and handed a key to one of the other guys. Dean felt okay about his decision. You couldn't really feel _great_ about telling some yahoos to hunt your brother down in their backyard, but he had to trust that Sammy could take care of himself. He was surprised if the kid wasn't down there hatching a plan right now. At least, that's what he kept telling himself, until Pa spoke up again.

"Lee, go do it. Don't let him out, though. Shoot him in the cage." Dean's heart jumped into his throat.

"What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt him. You were gonna give him a chance!"

"Lee, when you're done with the boy—shoot the bitch, too." Lee looked over to the girl tied up next to them. "Not that bitch, the cop bitch!" Lee nodded, though he still looked confused - it was probably a facial default. "Better clean this mess up before any more cops come runnin' out here."

Dean was forced to wait. He wanted to rage some more, but he found himself holding his breath, listening. _No,_ he thought, breathing quietly, even as his burn wound throbbed. _No, Sammy can take care of this. He's smart. He'll come up with something._

There was a gunshot.

"You hurt my brother, I'll kill you, I swear. I'll kill you all. I will kill you all!" And God help him, he meant it. He'd start with the ringleader, and work his way down to-

"Lee!" Pa shouted. Dean sat up straighter. Something wasn't right. Or rather, something was _very _right. Lee must have run into a little trouble. He allowed himself a smirk, though not more than that; Sammy could still be out there bleeding from a gunshot wound. "Jared, you come with me. Missy, you watch him now." As Pa and Jared left, Missy stepped up next to him. She'd found her knife again, and decided to wave it around Dean's eye. He wasn't sure if he was more scared or humiliated.

"Hey, Missy." Dean's head spun towards the woman. She looked up at Missy, her hair only slightly less wild that the little girl's as it hung around her shoulders. "Come here."

"No!" Missy said. Her hand jerked, and Dean did his best to pull as far away from the knife's edge as he could.

"Can you not rile her up-" Dean began, and Missy turned back to him.

"Shut up!" Missy yelled. She raised the knife again. "Shut up-" The woman behind her dove, the rope around her wrists frayed loose. She took the kid off her feet, landing on her heavily. Missy screamed, but it came out hoarsely with a grown woman pressing a knee into her back. "Get off me! Get off, get off!"

"Hey, I gave you a choice." Reaching for a roll of duck tape, which was sitting on a dusty shelf with plenty of other junk, the woman began wrapping it around Missy's wrists. Missy continued to squirm and make weak, incoherent shrieks. Without pausing, the woman wrapped the duck tape around Missy's mouth, and then completely around her head - it quickly got a lot quieter in the room. Dean winced just imagining what untangling that would be like.

After she bound Missy's feet, the woman plucked the knife that was still clenched in the little girl's hands, and came over to Dean. She walked behind him, and quickly sawed through the ropes tying him down. "How long were you awake?" Dean asked as she worked.

"Long enough to hear Pa confess to some seriously off-beat first degree." Dean might have laughed, but he was too worried about Sam. As soon as he felt the rope snap apart, he was out of his chair. They found their weapons lying on a nearby table.

"Stay back and give me cover." She nodded at him, checking the rounds of her revolver. Forgetting himself for a moment, he watched her open the chamber. An actual revolver. Why the hell she used that instead of a real handgun, a semi-automatic, he had no idea. He'd have to ask later.

_Girl's got style, though, I'll give her that._

Back to the mission at hand. "Let's go save my brother-" Dean had been turning towards the exit when he saw a familiar, lanky figure pause in the doorway. "Oh."

"Are you-" Sam's eyes moved over to the woman behind him. He gave her a once over that was a touch longer than it needed to be, and Dean wasn't exactly sure how he felt about it. Part of him was happy to see Sam take interest in anything female, and part of him wasn't sure if he should claim her for himself, instead. Mostly, though, he just wanted to be away from this hellhole. "Who's this?"

Dean looked over at her. She smiled, and even waved one hand. "I have _no_ idea. But she's cool, so let's go." Sam frowned, clearly wanting more of explanation. It was a conversation that would have to happen, and Dean was just as curious as anyone, but it wasn't his most pressing concern at the moment. The fact that his shirt was still melted into his skin where some backwater freak had burned him was a bigger priority.

Another gunshot fired. Dean watched Sam's eyes go wide. "Kathleen-" His brother started, but before he'd turned, the stranger chick blew past him. They followed on her heels. When they came outside, however, the cop was walking towards them, unharmed. Which meant someone else had been shot. It didn't take Dean long to figure out who, and he didn't blame her. That evil son of a bitch had killed her brother, after all.


	5. The Benders Pt 2

**A/N**: Since I can't reply to the reviews of folks who don't have accounts, I just want to take some space here to thank Alice for the review. =) Also, Miss Jay brought up a good point: Eddie's name is pronounced how you'd say a guy's name, not Ee-die ...which would make a lot more sense as a nickname for a girl!

Also, note that I'm going to start a section at the bottom of some chapters for multimedia. They'll have URLs to pictures, songs, and whathaveyou that are relevant to the story. Totally optional, obviously, but a bit of added flavor for the folks that are into that. Just replace the (doc) with a period, and you'll be set.

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Benders**

**(Part Two)

* * *

**

Kathleen let them go. She didn't give them a lift back to the Impala, but Dean wasn't about to press his luck any further. They walked down the road instead: him, Sammy, and that girl.

"What, you don't drive?" Dean asked.

She looked over at him. Out in the sunlight, she was pretty easy on the eyes. Bruised and dirty, yeah, but underneath that was quite an attractive young woman. Who was he kidding? Even with the blood and dirt, she was smoking. Okay, maybe too skinny. And tall enough to border on emasculating. Both other than that...

"I parked a junker not far away, but they found it. I wasn't about to leave my baby out here."

"Your _baby?_" Dean choked. Sam's eyebrows rose as well.

"What? No! My _car._ You've got to be kidding me." In turn, she looked at them like they were the crazy ones. Dean held in a sigh of relief.

_What do you drive_, he'd been about to ask, but Sam stepped in first.

"What's your name?" Well, Dean supposed that was a good enough question.

"Eddie." The two brothers shared looks, but didn't say anything this time, waiting for an explanation. "Yeah yeah. It's really Eden but I go by Eddie."

"Why?" Sam asked, genuinely interested.

"Because I love the look on peoples faces when they hear it." It sounded practiced, but then again, she probably got the question a lot. Before either of them could follow up, she jerked her head towards them. "What about you?"

"I'm Dean," the eldest jumped in, making sure to walk a little ahead so that she could see him. As if they hadn't just spent a couple harrowing hours together. "This is Sam." Sam offered a quick smile, and a nod. It took Dean a couple steps to realize that Eddie had stopped walking. The two of them turned around, where the girl was standing very still.

There was an awkward silence which Dean was getting prepared to break, but she finally raised a hand, gesturing at them. "Dean and Sam _Winchester?"_

Sam shot him a quick glance. Dean shrugged. _Your guess is as good as mine._

"Yeah, that's us," Sam said.

The girl snorted, then laughed. Eddie kicked gently at the road beneath them, scuffing her boots, and shook her head. "I _knew_ you were hunters. Well, I wasn't so sure about you," she nodded towards Sam, who blinked - unsure of whether or not he'd just been insulted.

"You were hunting there too, weren't you?" Dean couldn't believe he was asking it. This girl? A hunter? Female hunters were always so... burly. And he'd never seen one a day shy of forty. But it'd explain why she was there, and her fighting abilities. Not to mention the general attitude.

"Yeah, I was." She smiled widely at both of them, and it made her look years younger. Maybe younger than Sam. "Of course, turned out there wasn't anything there to hunt at all." Her smile faded, and she sneered. "God save us from human beings, I swear."

Dean was about to agree when Sam shifted his weight. "How do you know about us?" Another good question. Probably why Sam had been accepted to law school. Eddie's expression darkened a little, unreadable, and she looked away before answering.

"I know John. Not that he picks up his cell phone anymore." The words came out more than a little bitter. _Amen,_ Dean thought to himself.

"You're trying to find our dad?" Sam asked.

"Join the club," Dean drawled. He felt a bit guilty afterwards as her eyes moved back and forth between them.

"You don't know where he is?"

"No." Dean inspected this girl again. There was something about her that he recognized, and it was getting under his skin. At first he'd thought that she must have just looked like some girl he'd met on the road, but that wasn't it. What was it?

"Is he okay?" Eddie's voice jumped a couple notches, and the itch in Dean's mind grew.

"We think so," Sam said reassuringly. "We just aren't in contact with him. He's on an extended hunt." She looked skeptical of this, and shook her head.

"No, no he _always_ answers when I call. And you two are his _kids_, why wouldn't he tell you where he was?"

"You're preachin' to the choir, sister." Dean scowled. He _would_ figure this out.

"How exactly do you know our father?" Sam asked. Eddie did that thing again where she looked away, uncomfortable with the question. Sam pressed harder. "We know a lot of dad's hunting buddies, and we haven't ever heard of-"

"I got it!" Dean shouted. Sam and Eddie turned towards him, and he grinned triumphantly. "I remember you!" He pointed at her, and noticed her smile (a little slyly, too). "Dad bailed you out of jail, what, four years ago?" Dean stepped forward, past Sam who was now thoroughly lost. "I remember that night." Dean nodded, looking her over again.

"Was kind of hoping you'd forget," she laughed.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

_Even at night, it was humid and miserable during the South Carolina summer, and doubly so inside of Dean's leather jacket. He wouldn't take it off, though: he liked the way it looked, and it just felt right to wear it during hunts with his dad. They'd gotten rid of a couple of malevolent ghosts, and had been on the ride back to the motel when John had gotten a call. Now they were driving in the opposite direction, and Dean could tell that his dad was pissed. Then again, after Sammy left for college, Dad was pissed pretty often._

_Dean was a little worried when they pulled up to the courthouse. With the usual grumble of "Stay here," John had gone inside. Half an hour later he'd walked out, marching someone in front of him. Dean leaned forward in his seat, and when they passed under a streetlight, he realized that it was a _girl. _Definitely a teenager, she was tall, dressed like she belonged in a biker bar, and had her arms __crossed resolutely over her chest. The best part, though, was her hair. _

_He thought she might have been a brunette originally, but her hair was cut short and dyed blue. Messy tufts of bleach blonde stuck out here and there, both careless and playful. He immediately wanted to touch it. Dean sat up his chair a little further. _

_With one hand on the girl's shoulder, John marshaled her towards the car. Dean leaned back, trying to adopt a relaxed pose in the seat. His father opened the car door behind him, growled "Get in," and then shut it after the girl had all limbs inside the vehicle. She buckled her seatbelt, and went back to having both arms crossed over her chest. Then she proceeded to stare angrily out the window. Dean could tell because he was watching her in the side mirror. _

_This was also when he noticed the massive black eye she was sporting. Her nose had a cut on it too, right across the bridge - the kind you got when someone broke your nose but had the courtesy to do it cleanly, without smashing it to one side. It was distressing: she'd taken a beating, obviously, and there was nothing to like about that. Nothing at all was sexy about hitting a woman, and the thought alone was enough to cool him down._

_John climbed into the driver's seat, and the three of them sat in stony silence as he got back onto the highway. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Dean went to introduce himself. He'd barely even moved a muscle, though, when John interrupted him._

"_Dean, not one word. I swear to you, if you so much as turn around in your seat, you will be walking back to the motel." It was a warning, and Dean could tell by his tone that his dad was completely serious. So what, then, he couldn't even _talk _to the girl? Then again, when was the last time he ever really just talked to-_

"_The shiner's from a bar fight," the girl offered from the back. Dean almost forgot what he'd just been told, and started to turn around again._

"_That goes for you too young lady!" John raised his voice, and from the side mirror Dean watched the girl roll her eyes. A bar fight? It was definitely still wrong to hit a chick, but if it was a fight, he found himself thinking: _I wonder what the other guy looks like.

_They drove the rest of the way without anyone saying anything. Now that they'd been strictly forbidden from interacting with each other, however, Dean couldn't help but want to know more about her. How did Dad know her? Why'd he bail her out? Why was she in a fight anyway? _

_His eyes moved to the mirror again. As he watched her, her eyes moved from the window to him. She was definitely a brunette, with eyes that dark. The girl smiled at him: it was small, not even showing any teeth, but it was also coy and - he thought - totally interested. Dean smiled back lopsidedly, his stomach tightening the way it always did when he had a pretty girl's attention. _

_Next to him, John loudly cleared his throat. Chastised, the girl went back to looking out the window. Dean did his best to do the same. She must have been better at it than him, though, because every time he thought he caught her looking at him, she was staring outside instead._

_That night at the motel, they got two rooms instead of the usual one. And, Dean noticed, they were on either ends of the motel complex - even though the place was mostly empty. It wouldn't have been a problem to get two rooms next to each other. When his dad had left him alone in their room, Dean had considered following him. He knew the look his dad had when he was about to chew out him or Sammy, and that was exactly what he looked like as he walked out the door. Dean had no doubt that __he was going to go lock horns with the chick they'd brought back with them, and he really, really wanted to be in on that._

_Instead, however, he laid back on his bed. Linking his fingers behind his head, Dean crossed his legs at the ankle, and tried to imagine all the possible reasons why his dad would bail an arguably maladjusted young woman out of jail after a bar fight. Part of him insisted that he go find out, but he knew that was a bad idea. As stealthy as he'd try to be, his dad would somehow find out, and there would be hell to pay. John had basically painted a glowing red X over the girl, and even if that added to her intrigue, Dean wasn't looking to cross his father. Especially not after Sammy stormed out a few months back._

_Besides, Dean comforted himself with the knowledge that the real thing was never as good as one's imagination, anyway. And Dean had a damn good imagination, if he said so himself. By the time his father came back, Dean had already worked his way through a dozen possible scenarios (some admittedly more fantasy-based than others), and fallen asleep._

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"Dad posted your bail?" Sam looked between them after Dean was finished with the story. Dean and Eddie hadn't looked away from each other the whole time, and she laughed good-naturedly.

"Yeah. He wasn't too happy about it. Still gave me a wad of cash before driving away though."

"But that doesn't really explain how you know him." Sam frowned. "How did you two meet?"

"When I was a kid he caught me hitching west of the Rockies. He was hunting a werewolf in the area." Dean shared a glance with Sam. "Fast forward to the 'monsters are real' revelation, and then here we are." Eddie gave them another smile, but her tone was hasty, glossing over what had to be a fairly detailed story.

"So, let me get this straight. You meet our dad, see a werewolf or something, and decide to become a hunter?" Dean arched an eyebrow.

Eddie smiled winsomely, and this one was 100% genuine. It had that same mischievous shade to it that he remembered from the first night he saw her. "John wasn't too happy about that either."

"Why are you looking for him?" Sam asked.

"I mean, yeah, because we're hunters too." Dean tried not to wince at himself. Everyone standing here was a hunter. "Just saying, we could help you out."

"Thanks..." She said slowly. "But I'd rather tell John myself." Eddie looked back and forth at them. "Do you think you'll hear from him any time soon?"

Sam sighed, and shook his head. "We don't know. Are you sure you don't want to tell us? We're uh, we're pretty good at helping people."

"Again, thanks for the offer, but I'm a pretty good hunter too." Eddie smirked, her tone clipped.

"I didn't mean-" Sam began, raising his hands.

"No, I know." She looked away, obviously kicking herself. "I'm sorry. Can we forget about it for now?" When she looked back over to them, to Dean in particular, she bit her bottom lip. It was disarmingly cute, and he was vaguely aware she might have been playing him. He didn't mind. "Maybe we can hunt together, for a while? See if John calls or something? I've gotten all my cootie shots, Scout's Honor." Her fingers folded down into the Boy Scout salute.

"Yes." Dean answered, almost before she'd even finished asking. Sam shot him a cautionary, tight-lipped '_Really Dean can we think about this first'_ look. Eddie must have spotted it, though, because she turned to his younger brother.

"I mean, if I'm imposing, I understand. Must hunters prefer to work alone anyway. Two's a company, three's a-"

"Party," Dean interjected, glaring over at Sam. "Right Sammy?" Sam gave him another disapproving glance, but it was clear that he wasn't exactly opposed to letting the girl come with them. He probably just wanted to "think things through," which meant a lot of useless talking when they'd come to the same conclusion anyway.

"Right," Sam said with a sigh. But he did smile at the girl, trying to show that he didn't mean any harm. "If you're looking for our dad too, it makes sense for us to travel together. Besides, I doubt it'd hurt to have another hunter around."

"Awesome!" Eddie practically skipped up to them, grinning. "Let's go! I can't wait to shower and put this town in the rearview."

x-x-x-x-x-x  
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They'd gotten back to the Impala, when Eddie had run off to get her car. Dean began explaining why they had to leave now. Apparently Kathleen had linked him back to the St. Louis murder, and they needed to be out of dodge sometime soon. Sam agreed.

"So what do you think about her?" Dean asked him, and Sam looked over at his brother.

"She's all right," Sam replied as noncommittally as possible. Dean really didn't need the encouragement, and it was easier to let his brother call the shots when it came to girls. Sam ducked down into the passenger side, and Dean slid into the driver's side, revving the engine.

"All right? Something loose in that big brain of yours?" Dean gave him a sharp look that didn't really have any anger behind it. "She's awesome."

"Just try not to scare her off, okay?" Sam buckled his seatbelt, and Dean looked affronted.

"Scare her off? What are you talking about?"

"If she really is a hunter, she's just probably had to deal with plenty of pain in the ass guys, okay?" Even as he said it, Sam knew that he probably should have kept his mouth shut.

"I'm a pain in the ass, is that what you're saying?" Dean asked pointedly.

_Yes,_ Sam thought to himself. And if most hunters were like Dean, he figured Eddie was probably pretty tired of them by now. _He _was tired of Dean most of the time, and Dean wasn't even trying to get in his pants. Sam's face messed up at that thought, disturbed, and Dean's voice brought him back.

"Hey, so I'm a pain in the ass? I'm talking to you."

Sam looked over at him. "No, that's not what I meant," he lied. "Just take it easy. If she's going to be coming with us, I don't want it to be awkward."

Dean narrowed his eyes, but seemed otherwise placated. "Yeah, _you_ not awkward around a girl. Sure." Sam let the comment roll off his back. "Then I guess you won't mind-"

Before he could finish, there was the roar of an engine and a car skidded to a stop to the right of them. Sam's head turned, and he saw a forest green, convertible muscle car pull up next to him. There wasn't a doubt in his mind who was driving, though he checked anyway. Eddie was sitting there, marginally cleaner than before (they'd wiped down, but there hadn't been any time for showering), and she smiled over at him. Sam could practically hear Dean's jaw drop beside him, and when the woman motioned for Sam to roll down his window, he did.

"No way!" She shouted with a laugh, hanging halfway out of her window. "He _gave _you this?"

"What?" Sam's brow knitted, but he smiled. It was hard not to, when Eddie was flashing that big, honest grin.

"Jesus! I freaking love this car! You lucky sons of-"

Dean opened the driver's side door, planting one foot outside on the parking lot of the motel. He looked over the hood, inspecting Eddie's vehicle. "-that's a '67 Camaro, isn't it?" Sam felt more than a little lost in the conversation, and he watched as the top of the convertible folded back. Eddie pushed herself up against her seat so she could talk to Dean over the top of the Impala.

"Yep!" She stroked the frame lovingly. Sam noticed that it wasn't as polished as Dean kept their car: the paint was scraped in some areas, and there was mud and dirt kicked up around the wheels. But it wasn't trashed, really - in a way the scuffs and small dents added to the car's personality. He wondered if that was a conscious effort on Eddie's part, and decided that he wouldn't put it past her. From what he knew about Dean, and even his own father, hunters cared a lot about the image they presented, especially to each other.

Dean groaned and, from what Sam could see, clutched his chest. "Eddie, you're breaking my heart over here. There's _no way_ you're real." Sam rolled his eyes from the safety of the cabin.

"Whatever," Eddie replied, waving it away with one hand. "You two've got the Impala. If there's anything I learned from John, there are three things that make a hunter. Three S's, if you will." She held up a fist, then stuck out her thumb. "A tragic story." The index finger went up. "A ton of salt." The middle finger followed. "And a really sweet ride."

The two of them ended up peeling out of the parking lot like highschoolers on a Friday afternoon, and Sam sat quietly. Dean was having fun, and he wouldn't appreciate Sam's introspection. Again and again though, Sam thought about what Eddie'd said about hunters: that they had tragic stories. It was true, poignant even, and its depth belied the carefree attitude she otherwise displayed. He wondered how much she knew about them, or for that matter, what her tragic story was.

* * *

**Multimedia**

**Eddie's Car: **bit(dot)ly/alvlPf


	6. Shadow Pt 1

**A/N:** Eddie dislikes Meg... surprising no one. Up next? Reunion time.

Also, as a quick note to anyone that reads aaall the way up to this point. Feel free to go ahead and drop me a review even if - especially if - you think something is mediocre and could be improved. I know that my style of writing is lacks (pretty much any) artistic flair, but I hope to make up for it with decent character development and solid dialogue. Criticism and critique is always welcome. Of course, just saying "Hey, I read it!" is appreciated too. =)

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**Chapter Three: Shadow**

**(Part One)

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**

"You know, I've gotta say Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork." Dean said, looking over at Sam with a smirk. "What was that play that you did? What was it - _Our Town._ Yeah, you were good, it was cute."

Sam had found an article in the paper about a girl who'd been torn to pieces in her apartment. What made it their kind of case was the fact that she'd been locked inside: there were no signs of break in, or even any exit.

At Sam's suggestion, he and Dean were wearing a pair of jumpsuits, on their way to pose as two mechanics from the alarm company to see if something had caused their product to malfunction. Dean complained about it from the start, though Sam had a sneaking suspicion that his brother kind of liked the disguises. He liked showing off his conning abilities, at least.

"Look, you wanna pull this off or not?" Sam asked.

"Yeah yeah," Dean dismissed him, fidgeting with the collar of his jumpsuit, then looking around the street. "I just don't want Eddie to see us in these goofy outfits."

"You really care what she thinks?" Sam asked with a smirk of his own.

Dean scowled. "No. I mean, I'm just saying, _I_ think we look ridiculous so I'm sure _she_ would. That's all."

"Well she said she's doing her own research, so you've got nothing to worry about." Sam held in a laugh as Dean searched the streets again. He continued to cast nervous glances around until they'd actually made it up into the apartment.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

"Oh, hi. Are you the landlord?" Sam turned towards the familiar voice at the door, and watched Dean suddenly stand up from what he was inspecting. The woman who owned the building had just been about to let them investigate on their own, when the question stopped her.

"Landlady," the landlady responded. "But yes. Can I help you?"

"Yes," Eddie said from the hallway. "I'm a broker in this area and I heard that you had some vacancies in the building?" Eddie stepped inside the doorway, and extended a hand. She was dressed in a costume of her own, which included a collared, button-up shirt, some non-ripped jeans, and a pair of sandals with low heels.

The landlady shook her hand, which was when Eddie looked up, and into the room. Specifically, at him and Dean. The landlady turned around, and gestured towards them. "Don't pay them any mind. They're from the alarm company. I'm sure you've heard about the attack in the news, but I want you to know, we've never had any other trouble like that in this area." While the landlady was turned away from her, Eddie's eyes went wide at their outfits. She even started a slow, Chesire grin, but it was cut short when the landlady turned back around. In an instant, Eddie was professional again, expression serious.

"Yes, I'd heard. Perhaps you have an office where we can discuss this further."

"Of course, follow me." The older woman led the way out, and Eddie took a moment to stand there staring at them. No one said anything, but she raised her eyebrows and gave them a corny, two-handed thumbs up. Then she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

There was a beat of silence, and then Dean looked over at him. "After this job is done, I'm going to kill you."

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x-x-x-x-x-x

"Did you get anything? Besides her number?"

"Hey, don't think I'm not still mad at you." Dean replied, straddling the stool across from Sam. "Besides, I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that." Sam gave him a knowing look. "All right, yeah," Dean chuckled, showing off his prize.

He could already tell that Sam was about to scold him further, but instead he looked over Dean's shoulder and leaned back in his seat. Eddie came up behind them, a bright pink drink served in a martini class perched in one hand. She sat at one of the free sides of the table. Dean carefully folded the napkin with the bartender's number, and slipped it into his pocket.

"What is _that_," Dean asked, pointing at her glass. After she'd seen him in a jumpsuit earlier, he'd been waiting for something to rib her about. A fruity, girly Cosmo wasn't exactly damning, but he had to take what he could get.

"I don't know." Eddie peered into her drink, toying with the toothpick-speared fruit that was dunked inside. "Some guy that knew Meredith got it for me." Eddie looked up at him, adopted a half-innocent smile, and slid it in his direction. "Why, you want it?"

_Backfired._ Dean opened his mouth, but Sam was faster.

"Right, so, Meredith." Sam began, bringing them back to the case. "Do you two find anything out?"

"She worked here, waited tables, everyone was her friend. She didn't say or do anything weird before she died."

"Same," Eddie said, and took a tentative sip of the drink. It must not have been so bad, because she took another one afterwards. "What about the symbol you guys found?"

"Nothing. It wasn't in dad's journal, or any of the usual books." Sam replied with a sigh.

"But there was another victim, right? Some guy?" Eddie ate the slice of pineapple that'd been hooked to the side of her glass. Dean felt a tiny spray of juice hit him, and he looked over at her. "Sorry," she apologized, one hand covering her mouth.

"Just keep your Sex and the City to yourself over there." He couldn't actually be mad, and Eddie nodded, still munching on the fruit. She gave him a small salute, and Dean smiled.

"There was another victim." Sam pulled out a different newspaper clipping. "Ben Swardstrom, a middle-aged banker."

"No connection?" Dean asked. From the way Eddie was destroying her Cosmo, it almost made him think about getting one for himself.

"None, other than the same cause of death, no signs of forced entry. They were practically in different worlds-" Sam was looking over his shoulder again, and this time Dean knew it couldn't be Eddie. Instead of saying anything, though, he stood up and began to walk around the table.

"Sam?" Dean asked, turning to watch him. He looked back to Eddie, who shrugged. He got up to go after Sam, and Eddie downed the rest of her drink with a couple practiced gulps, following him.

"What's going on?" She asked behind him, and Dean shook his head, turning back to look at her.

"I don't know." But ahead of them, Sam stopped. He tapped a blonde girl on the shoulder, and it was obvious that she recognized him. Dean, however, had never seen her in his life.

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Eddie waited, with Dean, while the two of them were ignored by both Sam and the new girl Meg. She wasn't really upset about it, but it was kind of lame. Just when she'd been prepared to ask Dean if he wanted to go get a drink, Sam had turned to introduce them.

"Meg, this is Eddie." Taking her cue, Eddie stepped forward. She shook Meg's hand, and for an instant, her stomach went sour. Something seemed to move behind Meg's eyes, but a second later, everything was fine. _Probably just that drink,_ Eddie comforted herself.

"And this is my brother, Dean." Dean waved.

"This is Dean?" Meg arched an eyebrow.

"So you've heard of me?"

"Oh, yeah. I've heard of you. Nice, the way you treat your brother like luggage." Eddie felt her eyebrows shoot up, as the tension in the group spiked. More than that, though, she felt a spark of anger ignite inside of her. Who was this chick? Not that Eddie herself was exactly a shining example of good manners, but how rude could you _be._

"Sorry?" Dean asked, blinking.

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God's green earth."

Eddie stepped forward. "Hey now." Meg's eyes turned on her, flashing. Again Eddie felt a little sick in her stomach, and that just made her angrier. She bristled. Maybe it wasn't her place to stick up for either Sam or Dean, but if this chick wanted to mouth off...

"Yes? And who are you again, _Eddie? _One of Sam's friends? Or Dean's girl of the week, maybe? He does that, you know. Uses people selfishly. You should watch out."

"Hey-" Sam and Dean said in unison.

"How about you leave your 'rebel without a cause' act to the professionals, sweetheart." Eddie took another step forward and felt a hand grip her shoulder. She was taller than Meg, and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to bash that cocky smile right off the blonde's face. _Temper temper,_ she scolded herself, letting Dean pull her back.

"Why don't we go get a drink, slugger." Dean murmured beside her, and Eddie nodded, still glaring at Meg.

"Bye Eddie." Meg waved coyly at her, and Eddie felt her hands clench into fists. She couldn't do this. Not again. Trying to let the rage blow through her, Eddie took a few deep breaths. After you'd been in a few dozen bar fights, you started to realize that they were pretty undignified. And she didn't need to go all _product of a broken home_ in front of Sam and Dean. There'd probably be time for that later.

Dean didn't let go of her shoulder until he'd gotten her a seat at the bar. Standing next to her, he flagged the bartender down and ordered them both something. Eddie was still glowering, and began to rap her fingers on the counter of the bar.

"So were you about to knock that girl's lights out, or what?" He asked, giving her a cautious, side-long glance.

Eddie licked her lips, forced a smile, and shrugged. "There was just something about her, I guess. Something off."

"Other than just being a bitch?" Dean asked, risking a smile.

"Yeah, I don't know. Sorry." Eddie rubbed her forehead. "I'll play nicely from now on."

Dean snorted. "Why would you want to do that? Nice isn't gonna save our asses when we find out what's killing these people."

Eddie looked over at him, appreciative of the pep talk. Before she could thank him, though, their drinks came. The bartender set two pink Cosmos down next to them. Dean paid, tipped well, and then handed Eddie hers. "Cheers," he said with a smirk, and clinked the rim of his glass against hers.

Eddie barked a laugh, and nodded. "Cheers."

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Eddie was lying on Sam's bed, clicking through website after website full of occult symbols on his laptop. She had her shoes off and her feet kicked slowly back and forth in the air. In another corner, Dean was going through actual books.

"I still don't get why you get to use the Internet and I've got to read these musty old things."

Eddie didn't look up over the laptop screen. "Because I called shotgun on the laptop. Plus, I'm checking all of the porn sites Sam visits."

"Really?" Dean's chair squeaked as he sat up, and this time Eddie did look over at him.

"No," she finally said. "His computer is as conspicuously clean as any college grad." With a sigh, she rolled onto her side for a moment, so that the laptop didn't obscure her view of him. "Are you having any luck? If I look at one more sparkling, inverted pentacle, I'm going to puke."

Dean chuckled. "No, it's just-" He flipped a page, and stopped suddenly. There was the symbol staring up at him. "Hey, check this out, this is it!" Eddie rolled off of the bed and came over to him. She leaned on the table, peering over his shoulder. Dean read aloud: "It's a Sigil to summon a Daeva. Daevas are..." he traced the text with his finger. "Demons of darkness." There was a picture of person being ripped apart, screaming in agony, while a shadow with talons hung over them.

"Nasty," Eddie commented. "And if it's made out of shadows..." She turned her head towards him.

"...then it wouldn't need a door to get in and out." He turned to her, and Eddie was immediately aware that their faces were separated by only a few short inches. The room suddenly felt a few degrees warmer, and her breath caught in her throat. Dean's eyes moved down to her lips, and she felt her calves tighten. He looked away, swallowing hard. "I need to call Sammy."

"Yeah. I'll look up how to kill these suckers." Eddie pulled away quickly, retreating back to the safety of the bed.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
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"Lawrence. They were both born in Lawrence," Dean explained quietly to Sam. Eddie felt chills run up her spine, and the hairs on her arms prickled. She felt like she was on a separate island, sitting on the bed as they talked in low voices. The brothers shared a look, before glancing back to her.

"There's something you should probably know, Eddie." Sam winced, anticipating that he wasn't going to enjoy telling this story. "About us. About how we got started hunting." Dean's face went hard, not eager to share, but he didn't interrupt.

"It's okay," Eddie said quickly, cutting him of. "I... I know what happened in Lawrence. Some of it, at least." She felt guilty, and it must have showed. Both of them stared openly at her. "I read John's journal, back when he still had it. That your mom died. That that's why your dad became a hunter."

"And when were you planning on telling us you knew?" Dean asked waspishly, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, over a sunny brunch sometime." Eddie responded, biting back. "When was I supposed to bring it up? I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

Dean started to say something, but Sam stopped him, stepping between both of them. "Both of you, there are more important things for us to worry about right now. But if it was the demon that killed... that killed mom, that Meg was talking to, then we need to do something about it. First, we need to call Dad."

Eddie and Dean were still glaring at each other, but Dean eventually pulled out his phone and turned away. Eddie sighed, looking away. Sam stepped towards her, and she eyed him warily. "Eddie," he said gently, half-whispering. "Could you give me and Dean some time?" Eddie almost wanted to cop an attitude, but it was impossible. He was being genuinely polite.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll go get some stuff together." She pushed herself off the bed, and stopped in front of him. She poked a finger into the center of Sam's chest. "Don't even think about leaving without me, you got it?"

Sam smiled. "Got it." As she walked out, Dean was leaving a message on their John's voicemail.

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Of course it was a trap.

When Dean came to, he was tied to a pole. Nearby, Eddie and Sam were both tied up too. Sam was still out, but Eddie was awake. She caught Dean's eyes. _Deja-vu?_ She mouthed, without making a sound. He gave her a weak smile; partly because it was true, they'd been here before, and partly to show that he wasn't still mad at her. She smiled back, though he could see how worried she was.

Sam woke up, and Meg walked over to him. After he got his bearings, he glared up at Meg. "This whole thing was a trap, wasn't it? Meeting you here? The victims from Lawrence?"

Meg smiled. _Had to go for the bad girl, didn't you Sammy._ Dean tested the bindings around his wrists. He didn't see Eddie moving, but he knew she was doing the same. "Doesn't mean anything. Just there to draw you in."

"You killed those people for nothing."

"Baby, I've killed a whole lot more for a whole lot less." The blonde woman hung over Sam, dropping her voice to a husky register.

"Yeck," Eddie made a retching noise beside him. "Really? Didn't evil villainess with over-styled hair die out with the 90s?" Meg turned towards Eddie, who didn't even flinch. "Then again, maybe I should thank all the bad, bad girls like you though, huh? Remind me of everything I'm _not_ missing." Dean was heartened by her spirit, but at the same time, he _really_ wanted Eddie to shut up. Meg was a psychopath, and already didn't like her. There was no telling how far she could be pushed before she completely snapped.

"Mmm. Maybe you're right." Meg stepped back from Sam, coming to kneel in front of Eddi. She tilted her head to one side. "Maybe I should use a boy's name, dress like a boy, and pretend I'm the long-lost son of a man I barely even know. You'd like that better, wouldn't you?" The words hit home, and Dean watched as Eddie lost her cool. Her lips pulled back into a snarl.

"John." Eddie growled the name, her face contorted with hatred. "The trap isn't for us."

"We have a winner," Meg crooned. "And just for the record, I was _never_ trying to catch _you_ at all. I planned on snuffing you out the moment I had the chance." She sighed wistfully. "Unfortunately, you're now part of the package. But don't get me wrong..." Meg lifted one hand, running the back of her knuckles tenderly across Eddie's cheek. "You're the most expendable part."

Eddie moved so fast that even Meg was caught off guard. She lunged forward, held back only where her wrists were tied to the post. She strained so hard against her bindings that Dean thought it a small wonder that the girl's shoulders didn't pop out of their sockets. Meg lost her balance, tumbling back. The blonde threw down one hand and caught herself.

"What are you?" Eddie demanded. "You're not human. _What are you?"_

Dean watched as Meg's expression changed to shock and maybe even a touch of fear. In a second, though, the mask came back down. He had no idea what to make of it - Meg was definitely human from where he was sitting. Unless it was some kind of existential question, though he didn't really peg Eddie as the type.

"Aw, Eddie, are you calling me a monster? I'm hurt." Meg stood back up, brushing herself off. "If don't have anything nice to say..." Meg backhanded her, hard. Eddie's head snapped to the side, but she didn't so much as cry out. When she faced forward again, Dean could see the line of scarlet curling at the corner of her mouth; her lip had been cut against her teeth.

"Leave her alone!" Dean bellowed before he could stop himself. Eddie didn't say anything else, but there was something new in her eyes: furious, but crazed too. She didn't look over at him, only continued to glare at Meg.

"Happily. I'm much rather focus on you and Sam anyway." Meg said with a fake smile, turning to him.

"Your plan doesn't matter." Dean said. Meg sauntered over to him, and then crawled onto his lap. He was grateful to be able to say that nothing about it turned him on.

"Why's that?"

"Because even if Dad was in town - and he's not - he wouldn't fall for this. He's better than that."

"You do have a point." Meg grinded against him, gently wiped at a cut on his temple from the earlier run in with the Daevas. Dean jerked his head away. "He _is_ good. But you see, he has one weakness." Dean felt his stomach knot. "His boys. I happen to know that he is in town, and he won't be able to stop himself from coming to the rescue. Then the Daevas kill everyone... nice and slow and messy."

"Why?" Sam asked. "Why are you doing this? What kind of deal do you have?" Thankfully, Meg peeled herself off of him, and slid over to Sam instead.

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do - loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy - and Jess."

"Go to hell," Sam spat.

"Baby, I'm already there." Meg rubbed up against him like a cat at dinnertime, breathing heavily into his ear. Dean felt himself throw up a little in his mouth. Eventually she even began to start kissing him. _We're going to need to have a talk about girls,_ Dean told himself.

Eddie looked over at him, and Dean didn't look back, but watched her from his peripheral vision. She nodded just a touch. Dean clanked the knife he'd pulled against his post, just quiet enough to be by accident.

Meg instantly stopped fondling Sam, and came over. She tossed his knife away, before looking back down at Sam. "Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cut free?"

"No. No, because I have a knife of my own-"

Which was when Eddie tackled Meg to the ground. She grabbed a handful of blonde hair, and roughly smashed the woman's face against the concrete of the warehouse floor. Dean almost, _almost_ considered telling her to hold back a bit.

"Sam, the alter!" Sam jumped to his feet, and raced for the alter before the Daevas could stop him. With a giant heave, he overturned the entire thing, sending human organs and bowls of blood and black candles flying.

Suddenly, a Daeva materialized behind Eddie and Meg; he could tell by the shadow it cast even in the dim lighting. "Eddie!" Dean shouted, but not before a Daeva grabbed her and flung her across the room. She crashed into a shelf, which exploded with dust and promptly collapsed. The Daeva reached down for its real prize, dragging Meg across the floor and out the window.


	7. Shadow Pt 2

**A/N:** Someone brought up a good point about Mary Sue-ness, and I want to address it. If you feel like Eddie is going down that unsavory path, please let me know. Without spoiling anything, Stuff Will Happen that will probably push her even closer the line. Gonna do my best to keep the character realistic (to the universe) and also flawed. Again, though, shout at me if you think I'm going astray!

* * *

**Chapter Three: Shadow**

**(Part Two)

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**

Eddie tried not to show how much her leg hurt, moving as naturally as she could. Both of them noticed the limp anyway, no matter how much she tried to stiffen it out. Nothing was broken as far as she could tell, but if hitting the shelf hadn't been enough, it falling down on her had definitely done the trick. Sam was out of the backseat before the car had even stopped moving, and helped her climb out. Eddie was tall enough that she'd gotten used to seeing eye to eye with a lot of guys, but Sam still had more than a handful of inches on her.

"I'm fine," she grumbled, but Sam kept a gentle-yet-firm grip on her anyway.

"Then we'll say it's for my peace of mind," he replied, looping her arm over his shoulders and supporting her. The right leg of her jeans wasn't torn too badly, but there were dark splotches of blood where sharp pieces of wood had punctured through the denim. _Probably need a damn tetanus shot,_ she thought to herself, biting back the fresh wince that each step brought on. Another wave of deja-vu. Seriously, though... if the things that went bump in the night didn't kill her, lockjaw probably would.

Dean killed the engine and came around towards them. Immediately he stepped forward to support Eddie's other side. "Cut it out," she growled before he could reach her. "God, I don't need to be carried." She knew it came out harsh and mean and, yeah, pretty whiny. She sort of wanted to take it back, but not as much as she didn't want to be coddled by them.

"_You_ cut it out." Dean snapped back. "The bad guys are gone, drop the freaking 'tude." Eddie frowned at him, but he came towards her all the same, roughly (but not _too_ roughly) pulling her arm around him. "I swear," he muttered under his breath. She didn't catch the rest of it, but she thought she heard the words '_always something to prove'_ in there. "You're staying in our room tonight." It wasn't a question. Eddie glanced over at him. "If those things show up again looking for another round, we need to stick together."

"I'll take the couch," Sam added helpfully. More than that, though, it was a sign that he agreed with Dean. She'd been outvoted before she even had a chance to think of a reason to argue. Not that she really could argue; it made sense. But she was in a sore mood to match her sore body, and she wasn't above taking it out on those present - at least a little.

Finally, Eddie sighed. "Okay, okay. Just, I need to go to my room first, grab my stuff. It'll take me ten minutes. Don't either of you _dare_ babysittin' me, either. I can make it the 20 feet over to your room."

Dean turned his head, giving her a hard glare. She glared back. "If you're not done in ten minutes, I'm dragging your ass back to our room. I don't care if I have to throw you over my shoulder like a caveman to do it, either." Eddie couldn't help it. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards into the barest smile. It was only her pride that stopped her from saying, _Yeah, and what an great Neanderthal __you'd make._ Dean's eyes did a quick sweep of her face, and she definitely saw him smile too. He covered it with a cough, looking away, and turned the stern expression back on.

They walked her to her room, leaving her at the doorway as was their deal. Eddie watched them take a few steps away, before licking her lips. _Gonna regret this,_ she thought with a short sigh. "Guys?" They turned in sync, the way that only two people so used to each other could. "I need to tell you something. Why I'm looking for John. You should know." She watched them exchange a look. "See you in ten," she said quickly, shutting the door behind her.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

"Stubborn as hell, isn't she?" Dean asked him, and Sammy nodded distantly. "I mean it, like it actually pains her to let someone help her, and God forbid she ever _ask_ for it."

"Mhmm." Sam unlocked their motel room door. Behind him, Dean continued to complain without realizing that just about everything he accused Eddie of could be said about him. Sam didn't enlighten him. When it came to Eddie and Dean, he was trying to refrain from commenting. Dean was already sharing more with Eddie than he had with almost every other girl he'd been around, if only by the simple fact that they were both hunters. Sam had a feeling this was going to end up with some seriously bruised egos and trampled feelings, and the only consoling thought in all of it was that Eddie could probably dish the heartbreak as well as Dean. It didn't take a Stanford level education to see that Eddie was having a strong effect on his brother.

_Only on him?_ A voice asked, and Sam pushed it away. Yeah, Eddie was cute, and funny, and certainly more clever than she let on. She was assertive, even a little unruly, and sure, he liked those things in a girl. But she was way too much like Dean, and not just on the surface. They both put on fronts, preferred taking care of people to being taken care of, and were a little too in love with classic rock.

Plus it'd be impossible not to see that Dean was into her. And surprisingly enough, he hadn't made a serious move as far as Sam knew. Watching his brother so worked up about one girl was enjoyable, if a twinge sadistic. If Eddie was sort of Sam's type, then she was practically Dean's kryptonite.

He was still thinking about Dean and Eddie with a half-smile on his face when he opened the door. As soon as he stepped inside the dark room of the motel, Sam sprang to attention. There was a darkened figure by the windows; Sam dove to the side, his hand sliding along the wall until he hit the light switch.

The cheap yellow lights flickered before they stabilized. The man turned around, and Sam was left staring at his father. A face he hadn't seen, save in pictures, for over four years.

"Hello boys." John Winchester smiled wearily at them.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

Sam pulled away from his father, roughly wiping tears from his eyes. No matter how bad the fight had been between them, it was beyond relieving to see his father. He hadn't realized how frightened he'd been for the man, let alone how much he'd missed him, until the weight lifted from his shoulders.

"So you're really going after it." Dean asked, voice thick.

"Yes."

Dean nodded, blinking rapidly. He looked away, and didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. Sam looked back to his father. For a moment he forgot what he was going to say, happy just to see his dad's familiar scowl. Remembering himself, Sam shook his head. "Dad, there's something you need to know. There's a girl..."

The door opened, and Eddie came in, clumsily shutting it behind her. Even if it wasn't a long walk, her leg must have been hurting more than she let on: she was almost out of breath as shut the door behind her. All three Winchesters were staring at her when she looked up. "Told you it'd only be ten..." The words died on his lips.

The way she and John gauged each other, there might as well have been no one else in the room. Seconds ticked by, and Sam felt the need to move away, out of the potential line of fire, but he couldn't: he was rooted to his spot, just like everyone else in the room.

"What are you doing here?" John finally asked. Sam frowned, and watched Dean do the same: even for a man who wasn't easy with his emotions, it was a pretty cold greeting. Eddie looked like he might as well have slapped her.

"I needed to talk to you, and-"

"No." Eddie jerked back, mouth still ajar.

"B-but-"

"I said no." Whatever John was thinking or feeling, it was completely walled off by his stony expression. It took Eddie by surprise just as much surprise as the rest of them.

"Hey, c'mon Dad." Dean interjected. "She's just-" John shot him a look that could have peeled paint, and Dean stopped talking.

"I tried calling you," Eddie said, a new tremor in her voice. Sam realized, uncomfortably, that she was actually close to tears. He doubted that Eddie cried often, and he felt the goodwill towards his father fading quickly. He hadn't realized just how close Eddie was with John... but he could recognize the idolization a mile away. And John was shutting her out. "I looked for months. Something happened-"

"I don't care. I want you to leave." Her lip trembled, and a few fat tears spilled down her cheeks. Sam glared at his father, and thought he saw a tick form in the older man's jaw. It was the only change in his hard expression.

"Dad, what the _hell?_" Dean asked, still more confused than upset. He looked like he wanted to move towards Eddie, but he ended up just shifting his weight from one foot to the other, at a loss for what to do.

"Dean-" John raised his voice, and the tone instantly set Sam's blood pressure on the rise. He _hated_ that tone, and hated how well it worked on Dean.

"No." Sam jumped in, unable to hold back anymore. "Dean's right. Eddie deserves to be treated better than this." And then, he added, already regretting it: "She's been more help than _you_ recently." John sent him a warning glare, and Sam met it; for a moment though, he thought there was almost something pleading in it.

"John, I just need to talk to you." Eddie said weakly. She was still crying, but it was absolutely silent. You wouldn't have been able to tell unless you were watching her. Sam felt divergent needs to both comfort her and rage at his father. "Please..."

"Get out, and don't come back. I want you to _leave my family alone._" It was so uncalled for that even Sam didn't have the words to protest. His face contorted in disgust, and Dean looked horrified.

"_No!_" Eddie shouted, voice suddenly powerful, if uneven from the tears. Her eyes were still wet, and her hands were shaking, but she stood as straight as her twisted ankle would let her. There was a fire in her,something that hadn't been there before. "No, I see what you're doing, and _screw you_ John Winchester."

John started to interrupt her, but she kept going. "You're not _protecting_ me, and I'm just as good a hunter as either of your boys. You want to know what I found out? That when I was six months old, the orphanage where I lived _burnt to the ground." _Sam's stomach began to sink, and Eddie raised a hand, pointing at the ceiling. "One of the only survivors said that she saw a woman _stuck to the roof_ in the nursery."

Dean let out an involuntary noise, halfway between a groan and 'I'm going to puke.' Sam's insides similarly lurched, and it felt like he'd swallowed his tongue.

"And you _knew_ and you didn't tell me and now you're trying some _push me away to save me_ crap_. _So yeah, _screw you." _She crossed her arms defiantly, and set her jaw. In a way, it looked a lot like John himself. "I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, it seemed like Eddie had guessed wrong. John looked as steely as ever, and they were all left to marinate in the aftermath of that news. John took a few long strides towards her.

Sam wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but then his father scooped Eddie up and drew her into a close hug.

She might have been a little girl from the way John lifted her onto her toes. Though it took some work to maneuver her arms out of their crossed position between them, she hugged him back eventually, on the inside of his heavy leather jacket. He cradled the back of her head in one hand, and leaned his head against hers. If the display of such strong affection wasn't enough to surprise Sam, what John said next did: "I'm sorry," his father apologized, all but whispering. There was a muffled sound that Sam realized was Eddie crying again, harder this time.

Sam didn't know if he was apologizing for how he'd acted, or for not telling her. But the way John held her, and let her sob into him, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that he loved Eddie like he'd have loved a daughter. Neither Sam or Dean would have ever let their father hold them like that - at least not since fifth grade. John rocked her slowly side to side, his free hand rubbing her back. "I'm sorry," he muttered again, and Sam realized what he really meant.

_I'm sorry that this is your life. I'm sorry that I did this to you._

Dean looked over at him, and Sam looked back. His brother's expression was solemn. Eddie pulled away from John, sniffling and roughly wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. "It gets worse..." she said, nose and throat stuffy from the tears.

John smoothed down her hair, and then gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Tell me. But first, sit down." He backed up, and with one hand on her arm, began to lead her to a chair. "You're barely standing straight-"

Then he was hit by an invisible freight train.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

Eddie let our a screech of pain as she was flung into a hard surface for the second time that night - and, of course, landed on her already battered leg. Something scratched her, tearing through her shirt and leaving long gashes on her abdomen. She flailed, until a strong (human) hand grabbed her and dragged her to her feet. Dean tucked his arm around her and they half-sprinted, half-hobbled towards John. The man was bleeding, new cuts and tears opening up across his torso and face.

"Shut your eyes!" Sam yelled. Eddie saw him pull out a flare from his pack, and squinted her eyes shut. Even then, the light was bright enough to leave red blots against her eyelids.

"Dad!"

"I'm all right, we need to go." John coughed, pushing himself to his feet. Sam jumped over an overturned chair, and tugged him the rest of the way up. The four of them shambled out of the motel. As soon as they were out, Sam raced forward, throwing their bag of supplies into the backseat of the Impala.

"Hurry! That flare won't hold them off for long," Sam shouted back. Eddie tried her best to keep up with Dean, and ended up hopping more than actually running. He stopped suddenly as they reached the Impala, and Eddie almost careened face-first into the body of the car. He caught her in time, but she still slammed one hand down hard on the frame to brace herself.

"Wait, wait. Sam, wait. Dad, you can't come with us."

"What?" Eddie and Sam asked at once. _Jinx_, she commented internally, but now wasn't really the time.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. John was silent, looking between them.

"You all are beat to hell," John said.

"We'll be all right." Dean glanced at her, and then stared at Sam.

"We need to stick together." Sam looked at Dean like he'd lost his mind. Eddie didn't say anything, though her fist did involuntarily clench around a handful of Dean's shirt. _Leave John? Already? _But she'd only just found him - and there was more to tell him. Dean looked over at her, saw the distress in her eyes. His features softened a touch.

"Listen to me." He addressed Sam. "We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop, they're going to try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's... he's stronger without us around."

"Dad, no." Sam reached out, putting a hand on John's shoulder. "After all the time we spent looking for you. We have to fight this thing, together."

"We will." John looked at each of them. "Trust me, we're all going to have a part to play. But for now, you have to let me go." At first it didn't seem like Sam was going to listen, but then he patted his father's shoulder, and let his hand fall back to his side. John nodded, and then made his way over to the truck he must have arrived in.

"Be careful. Watch after my boys, Eddie." Which really meant that he was telling them to watch after _her._

She moved forward, maybe even subconsciously. Dean's arm stopped her from going far. John gave each of them a last look. Then he climbed into the driver's seat and drove away.

"Come on." Dean opened the back door for her, and Eddie tumbled in next to the bag of weapons.

"But my car-" The door slammed shut, and then they were on the road again.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

"_Where are you."_

_Not 'Hello' or even 'Are you okay?' Eddie had expected as much, and she looked around again. It was the dead of the night, and she was standing in the parking lot around the side of the motel. It probably would have been more private to make the phone call from her room, but she'd have felt trapped, and would have just ended up fidgeting with her weapons. It was chilly outside, but at least warm enough that her breath didn't puff like smoke._

"_Leon..."_

"_Don't you _'Leon' _me, Eddie. It's practically be three freaking months since I heard your voice, and I can already tell that you're calling for a favor."_

_Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't deny it. "Look, I'm sorry, I really am."_

"_Yeah, and that's just makes it worse, because I believe you. You can be as sorry as you wanna be, babe, but somebody so much as says the word 'Winchester' and you're _gone _right? Gone with the freakin' _wind_, yeah, gone like a bat outta hell?" There was a pause. "Is he there now? You should put him on the phone."_

"_It's not like that-"_

"_Oh please, Eddie, it's exactly like that. Give me SOME credit, I've been your best friend for the last what, seven, eight years- but who's counting, right? So what happened this time, Daddy called and you came running like a good little girl?"_

"_No, I had to find him-"_

"_And what part of that meant you couldn't at least give me a heads up? No calls, no emails, not so much as a single text message... You could have been dead in a gutter, for all I knew."_

"_I'm _sorry _Leon."_

"_Stop telling me sorry, and just tell me what's going on, and where you are so I can come get your ass." Eddie closed her eyes, and leaned against the concrete wall behind her. There was an heavy silence on the other end of the line. She let her head loll back until it hit the motel. "Jesus Christ, Eddie. You're still not going to tell me, are you?"_

"_No."_

"_What are you doing that's so damned important?"_

"_It's a hunt."_

"_Well no shi-"_

"_A _big _hunt," Eddie cut him off. "I can't talk about it. I wish I could, Leon, but I can't. I want you to know that I'm as safe as I can be-" She heard him snort indignantly. "-and I need to ask you a favor."_

"_Of course. You know, I live to serve your whims and clean up your messes. And as always, I'll be here whenever John leaves again. You know, whenever you're left sobbing on the floor wondering what you could have done to make him love you enough to take you home and turn you into a real girl."_

_Her grip on the cell phone loosen, and it almost fell through her fingers. She felt winded, like she'd been sucker punched. Yes, she'd known talking to Leon would not be easy or fun. But it was necessary: she knew what they were hunting now, and knowing that she wasn't going home too soon had given her the courage to call. Now, though, she was wishing she hadn't. Leon loved her, and she loved him, the way that only childhood friends could. But that also meant that he knew how to cut her deep, right to the bone. Eddie was seriously considering hanging up and going back inside without another word._

_Leon sighed on the other end, and she heard some of his anger dissipate. He was an abrasive person on good days, and it was obvious that he'd been holding that outburst in, stewing in it for a long time. He'd never liked John, or rather never liked the effect he had on Eddie. It was a well traversed point of contention between them._

"_I'm sorry, Eddie. How are you? Are you okay?"_

_Relief flooded her, and she sank a couple inches against the motel wall. "I've been worse."_

"_Please, can't I see you? I promise not to tie you up and throw you in the backseat. Then again, I may be crossing my fingers. If you were here, you could check." Eddie chuckled weakly._

"_Actually, that's kind of what I'm calling you about. I left the Camaro in a parking lot in Chicago."_

"_You _what! _You, _you _left your car? Something really must be wrong-"_

"_No- no. I'm with... I'm with a couple other hunters. I just want you to get the Camaro before it gets impounded."_

_There was a stretch where Leon considered this. "Yeah, fine. I can do that. Who're you with?"_

"_Just some hunters."_

"_Wow, you've actually gotten _worse _at lying, if that's possible. Who?"_

"_You've never met them."_

"_Doesn't mean I won't recognize their names." Oh, he'd recognize the name all right. Eddie winced. It'd probably be worse if she tried to keep it from him and he found out later._

"_Sam and Dean. Winchester." She heard a creaking sound that she realized was Leon squeezing his phone too hard. "Leon..."_

"_No. Wonderful. Fantastic. So you're part of the family now, after all. Good job, Eddie. Guess you had it in you all along. Real happy for you. I'll get your goddamned car." He said tersely, not letting her get a word in edgewise. "Don't die."_

_He hung up._


	8. Hell's Bells

**A/N:** Set after _Something Wicked._

* * *

**Chapter Four: Hell's Bells**

_I'll give you black sensations up and down your spine, _  
_If you're into evil you're a friend of mine._

_See my white light flashing as I split the night _  
_Cause if good's on the left, t__hen I'm stickin' to the right.  
__- _Hell's Bells, AC/DC

* * *

"Seriously though. I know if you're a monster, you're a monster, but what kind of sick freak eats _kids._"

"Hear hear." Dean raised his shot glass, and Eddie automatically lifted hers, clinking the glasses together. Almost reluctantly, Sam joined them.

"And posing as a pediatrician? That's just evil. Good riddance." Eddie threw back the shot, felt the Jack Daniel's burn all the way down to her stomach. They'd just finished a job that John had sent them on: taking out a Shtriga that had nearly gorged itself on the life force of a town's worth of Elementary School children. Now they were toasting to its demise, a particularly sweet victory given that it was the same creature that'd apparently attacked Sam some years back.

Dean and Sam downed their own shots. Dean immediately flagged one of the servers for another round. The three of them were sitting on stools at a high table. The music was good, the crowd was young, and they could have been any small group of people blowing off steam after a day of work. When Dean turned back, he leaned towards the table. "So tell us, Eddie, what was the first monster you ever bagged?"

Eddie thought she saw Sam roll his eyes, but the younger brother stretched back at the same time, looking away. Either she'd been projecting, or he was good at hiding it. Probably both. "The first one? Easy. It was the day I met your Dad." Sam _casually_ looked back towards her. At about the same time, another round of shots materialized. "To John," she said, picking one of them. They murmured the same (though they both said "Dad"), and the whiskey went down a little smoother this time.

"I was thirteen, on the run from another crappy foster home. Hitching west of the Rockies, like I told you guys a while back."

"At thirteen?" Sam asked, voice heavy with sympathy. Eddie wouldn't have taken it from most people, but from what she understood, Sam knew plenty about what it was like to want to run away from home. Not, of course, that Eddie would have ever called it that. It would have implied that she'd had a home to run away from, and truthfully, the moments she'd spent with John in the Impala over the years had been the closest she'd ever got.

"Turned out all right, didn't I?" Eddie asked with a shark-like grin. Yeah, it was probably weird and kind of sad, but no, she wasn't about to spin it as a sob story. Sam meant well, but if Eddie knew anything about pasts, it was that you had to always be retelling yourself your own history. And depending on the tone you used, you could make yourself a pathetic victim or a scrappy underdog. She opted for the latter.

"That was a _hypothetical_ question, right?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, and she moved to kick him under the table. He dodged.

"So I was walking down the road, at night, and this guy pulls up in this _gorgeous_ black car." Eddie gestured with her hands, and leaned back a little on the stool. Luckily not far enough to take a tumble - two shots wouldn't exactly do it for her.

"And you just got in." Sam accused her, with what she'd come to know as a dry-but-playful tone.

"It _was_ the Impala, Sam." Dean shot back, as if this explained everything.

"No, I didn't 'just get in'." Eddie smirked, answering Sam. "He bribed me with soda and a sandwich, first. No candy, unfortunately."

"Luke-warm, saran-wrapped ham and cheese?" Dean asked. Eddie snorted, and nodded. "_Man_, I remember those things. That's what he always got." For a second he wasn't there at all, his eyes glazed over as he stepped back into his memories.

"So I get in, and we're driving along when we come across an abandoned car. A guy comes out, and he's a little torn up, cuts on his face and everything. He's screaming for help, until he sees something and runs into the woods. Which is when a werewolf lands-" Eddie slammed her palms down on the table, and watched both of them flinch back slightly from the sound. "-on the hood of the car."

Eddie told them the rest of the story, all the way up until the point where John pulled the broken blade from the second creature's ribcage. They looked each other, skeptical. It was Dean that spoke first though, leaning forward against the table and raising one eyebrow. "You killed a werewolf when you were thirteen?"

"Yeah. I mean, barely, but yeah." Eddie knew the next question, and cut them off before either one of them could ask it. "A guy gave it to me. The knife, I mean. Gave it to me the same day I met John." Her expression darkened, and she looked down, suddenly interested in tiny bits of dirt collected under her fingernails.

"A guy gave you a silver switchblade." If Dean was having a hard time believing her before, now he sounded downright cynical. Eddie drew tiny swirls in the ring of condensation left by the glass of water next to her two empty shot glasses.

"Yeah. Actually, that was something I needed to tell you." She didn't look up, and they must have recognized the reluctance in her voice.

"This is going to kill the happy-fun-relaxing thing we've got going, isn't it?" Dean scoffed.

Eddie looked up with a weak smile. "It can wait," she said. _At least, I hope._

"No." Sam said gently, and his dark brown eyes found hers. "It's about what you said to Dad, right? '_It gets worse?'" _Eddie's eyebrows shot up, and Sam gave her an embarrassed smile."You said it just before the Daevas showed up."

It wasn't the first time Eddie was reminded just how deep Sam Winchester went. She'd gotten to telling herself to watch it around the younger brother; Dean might have been plenty clever in his own right, but he tended to say what he was thinking. Sam would observe something and store it for later, mulling over little details that would be lost on a normal person. Eddie would hardly have called herself mysterious, but sometimes talking with Sam made you feel like he had you under a microscope. He tended to be tactful about it, but it was still an uncomfortable place to be.

Like the time a couple weeks back when he'd brought her a Cherry Coke, unasked for, at a gas station. Handing her the soda as if it was the most natural of courtesies, Sam had gone back to the Impala without saying anything but "_You're welcome."_ It'd been a few days since they started travelling together, and Eddie could only think of maybe one time that he'd seen her drinking it before.

_As long as he uses his powers for good, not evil._ Eddie tried to joke with herself, but it fell a little flat.

"Yeah," she finally nodded. "But it's a mood-killer. We can save it."

Sam shook his head. "You should tell us. You don't have to shoulder it all yourself."

"What you're really saying here is, I should have told you when we first met about the woman on the ceiling the night my old digs burned down two decades ago." Eddie held Sam's gaze: it was a challenge. Maybe it didn't solve every problem to be so confrontational, but it'd gotten her this far. Dean was carefully neutral in a way that suggested that he _did_ agree that she should have told them, but hadn't figured out the sides just yet, much less whose he was on.

Sam shook his head without breaking eye contact. "You were already going to tell us the night Dad showed up. You were right to wait. That's not something that's easy to share, and you wanted to trust us first." Eddie frowned as she listened, receiving some unexpected support. "You know you can trust us now. There's no reason for you to carry anything like that alone."

A couple times, her mouth opened and closed, trying to find the right words. Her first instinct was to shoot him down and mock him - or at least mock the idea that she needed them to share her burden. But he'd disarmed her: the tough girl act would only make them push further, and she realized that she _did_ want to tell them. The secret was easy enough to forget about during the day, but at night, alone in her motel room, it ate at her.

"A couple months ago, I was coming back from a hunt when I saw a guy on the side of the road. He was hitching, and I wanted to be a good Samaritan, so I let him in..."

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

_The car door shut behind the guy; there was nothing particularly interesting about him, or threatening for that matter. Eddie, fresh from taking out a batch of child-ghosts in an old daycare, wasn't worried about anything this guy could throw at her. If he was bad news, she'd kick him the curb without trouble. After what she'd had to deal with today, though, all those spirits of kids who hadn't passed on, she was hungry for real human contact. She missed Leon, but pride wouldn't let her call him. They'd parted on bad terms. And then she'd disappeared on him._

_So when the stranger got into her car, she flashed him her most winning grin, hoping for some pleasant conversation. If nothing else, just being near someone for the rest of the ride back to Akron would be nice. "Hey there. What's your name?"_

"_Abraham." Eddie arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. It wasn't like she was allowed to judge anyone else for having a weird name. Besides, she wasn't going to be checking his ID or anything. "Thanks for picking me up. You headed east to Akron?" He was in his thirties, with sandy brown hair. Didn't look dirty or dishevelled enough to be a professional drifter, and she wanted to ask why he was hitching, but she knew better than to poke around other people's personal lives._

"_That I am. Name's Eddie. I can take you all the way, if you like."_

"_That would be kind of you. Nice car, by the way."_

_Eddie grinned. Yeah, this guy wasn't so bad. "Thanks."_

"_Mind if I turn on some music?"  
_  
"_Knock yourself out, Abe." She'd already had a CD going, turned down low from when she'd stopped to let him in. As the man leaned forward and turned up the volume, church bells rang out from the Camaro's sound system. Abraham looked confused as he settled back into his seat, but when Brian Johnson began crooning the bridge of Hell's Bells, he smiled widely._

"I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives  
Nobody's puttin' up a fight  
I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell,  
I'm gonna get you, Satan get you-  
Hell's bells!"

_The guy chuckled, and Eddie hazarded a glance over at him. "Something funny?" He didn't _look _crazy, but he was definitely laughing at something and they hadn't been talking._

"_Oh, no. Well, yes." There was a sharpness in the smile he flashed her, something that twisted around and around. They passed under a streetlamp, and for a second she thought she saw something crawling under his skin. She did a double take, but they'd passed out from under the wash of the light, and he was just a regular guy again. "I guess you could say I'm a fan of the song."_

"_You're into AC/DC?" It wasn't like it was an obscure title, let alone from an unknown band. He'd probably heard it before. Still, something had put her on edge. She found herself just wanting the song to be over. When he didn't answer her, Eddie gripped the steering wheel tighter. Applying some more pressure to the gas pedal, she watched the needle on the speedometer creep higher. _

"_Eddie, can I ask you something?"_

Really wish you wouldn't, _she thought to herself. "Sure thing."_

"_Do you ever think about fate?"_

_Eddie could feel him watching her, the gaze leaving a greasy film over her skin. She kept a steady eye on the road ahead. "That's a big question, Abe. But no, I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it. Don't believe in it."_

_He shifted in his seat, and she could see him smirk in her peripheral vision. "Really? That's a shame."_

"_Why's that?" Eddie asked hesitantly. The guy was beginning to sound more and more like a psycho. _

"_Because fate believes in you, kiddo." Eddie felt her face harden at the term. "Destiny's gonna be knockin' on your door one of these days."_

"_Yeah?" This is what she got for picking up a nut-job. To make matters worse, it began to rain. She turned on the windshield wipers, and used the excuse to focus even more on the highway. "Well, it'll have to find me first." And since her door changed at least once a week with each new motel, Eddie wasn't too worried about that. Abraham snickered._

"_Nah, you're running headlong towards it on your own just fine." Eddie swallowed, and her molars ground together. This guy was really getting under her skin. If it weren't raining, she would have told him to beat it._

"_Thanks for the advice." Without waiting for another fortune teller pearl of wisdom, Eddie leaned __forward and turned the music up louder. Hopefully he'd get the hint. _

"_Big, big plans for you, Eddie." She could still hear him over the hard rock, and tried not to wince. "All you have to do is stay alive. But you're tough. You're a survivor. I've got faith in you."_

_Eddie didn't slam on the brakes, but she came close: the car came to a squealing stop. Rain pelted the canvas roof, big fat drops of it. She finally looked over at him. "Get out. Now." Yeah, he was probably just crazy, and yeah, he was probably also harmless, but she couldn't take it anymore. Just sitting next to him made her feel queasy, and he spoke with a terrible certainty. _

"_What about Akron-"_

"_Get. Out." _

"_But we were having such a nice chat. You didn't even tell me what you do for a living-"_

_Eddie pulled the revolver from its holster beside her seat, and turned it on him. Maybe it was uncalled for; maybe the situation hadn't escalated to that point. But her heart was beating fast, and everything in her body was reacting as if this was a hunt. Abraham took a look at the weapon, but seemed otherwise unnerved. Which was more unsettling than not._

"_All right." He unlocked the door next to him, and halfway stepped out, before looking back to her. "Be seeing you, Princess." Eddie nearly dropped her gun, and before she could say anything, his eyes changed. She couldn't even remember what they'd been before; all she knew was that they were yellow. Yellow and spotted, like an over-ripened banana._

_Then he was out, and before the passenger side door was shut, Eddie floored it. She looked back only once, to see the figure of a man disappearing quickly behind her._

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

Eddie saw the questioning look on both of their faces. It's not that they didn't _believe_ her but... Yeah, she knew how that song and dance went. Was it the light? He could have been sick. Or maybe she was tired. And even if he did have yellow eyes, that didn't really _mean_ anything, right?

"Before either of you start, it's important because the day I met John, the same thing gave me a that switchblade. He called me Princess, and that's when his eyes changed. Only it wasn't the same guy; he looked different, had a different body."

"Like a shifter?" Dean asked. She'd heard all about the shifter who had impersonated him and gotten him wanted for murder.

"A shifter carrying around a silver knife?" Eddie asked, and Dean tilted his head, ceding the point. "Besides, it wasn't like that. His eyes were _yellow_, even in the dark. Not white because of a glare or anything."

"So what was he? What can change bodies like that?"

Eddie bit down on her bottom lip, before reaching into the messenger bag at her side. She pulled out a journal of her own; it wasn't nearly as full as John's, but it was definitely seeing some use. Running her fingers over the leather-bound cover, she opened up to a well-read page, and then pushed the books towards them.

Sam's eyes scanned the page quickest. "Possession." His eyes flicked back up to hers, and she nervously clenched and unclenched her hand.

"It would explain things. I've done a lot of research. You know how they say eyes are the gateway to the soul?" She turned the page, and there was a sketch of a young girl standing over the corpse of a man. His ribcage was cracked open and his innards spilled over the side. The girl was grinning, her eyes blacked out. "Demons can hide what they are, but sometimes their eyes show the truth. Black, red, yellow-"

"-a demon. You're saying this guy was a demon." Dean was digesting it, and he didn't immediately shoot her down. Eddie wet her lips.

"That's not all she's saying," Sam stepped in. His eyes didn't leave hers, and Eddie fought the urge to squirm in her seat. "You think this could be _the_ demon."

_How did you know?_ She wanted to ask. But Sam had cut through to the heart of it, had dragged out the truth when she wasn't sure she'd have gone that far. Eddie didn't want to believe it, but there was a horrible knot of terror in her guts every time she thought about that Yellow Eyed man.

"I'm not sure." Eddie knew it was backpedalling, and Sam gave her another one of those all-too-sympathetic looks. "But the first time I met him, I met John. The second time, after I kicked him out of my car, I went out looking for John and found out about that orphanage fire. Then I ran into you guys, and we had all those good times with Meg." With a now-shaking hand, Eddie pushed her hair back, then crossed her arms. It hid the trembling. "Each time this thing's showed up, I've gotten herded in towards your family."

Sam nodded, and Dean let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his short hair. "Great. Peachy."

"Dean," Sam warned.

"I'm going to get another drink." Dean stood up, leaving their table. Eddie watched him go, trying not to let it sting as much as it did. It reminded her of John telling her to leave the last time they'd all been in one room.

"He's not mad at you," Sam offered. If Dean _was_ mad at her, he'd probably still be sitting there, lecturing her for something or another. Eddie knew that he'd walked away to keep himself from saying something he'd regret; it was an art that she'd never exactly mastered, herself. "He just needs to cool off."

"It's just..." Eddie bit her lip again, looked around, before finally settling back on Sam. Damn him for looking so _consoling._ Didn't he know that hunters were supposed to be all iron and grit? "What if I'm playing into some kind of plan? Some kind of trap? I shouldn't have even looked for John."

Sam leaned over, and put a hand on her shoulder. It was huge, and she felt the warmth of it from under her shirt. "You couldn't have known. We're still not even sure it's the same thing. Don't beat yourself up over it, Eddie."

"I just..." Her shoulders slumped, and she put her elbows on the table. Sam moved his hand away naturally, but he scooted his stool a little closer. "I didn't have anyone else to go to. I put together my own stuff as I went, but John's always been..." She looked back up at him, remembered who she was talking to, and stopped herself. Sam didn't have to hear about his father from _her._

"I know." He smiled, and then looked around, ordering them drinks. He asked for a locally brewed beer, and got her a Jack and Cherry Coke. Eddie laughed to herself. "What?"

"Nothing. You're just not like most hunters." Eddie smiled to show that she didn't mean it as an insult. Sam smirked, his hair long enough to fall in front of his eyes.

"I think you and Dean have got that covered." Quiet fell between them, and the sounds of the bar filled the gap. With Dean you could banter through pretty much anything, but Sam was different. He was just as comfortable sitting and not talking. Different, yeah, but not totally unpleasant. Their drinks came, and Eddie spotted Dean chatting up some girl at the bar. Sam's voice brought her back. "There is something you should know."

"What's that?" The drink was strong but the cherry flavor covered some of the bitterness. She fiddled with the little mixer stick, swirling it around edge of the stout glass.

"We met another person, a guy named Max, only about a week before we met you. He was... the same thing happened when he was little that happened to you, and me. There was a fire, and his mom..." Sam winced, and Eddie turned her full attention towards him. Another kid like them? A flurry of possibilities rose in her mind. How many were there? _Why_ was some demon doing this? What did it mean? "This is going to sound weird, Eddie, but do you have any powers?"

Eddie blinked, then looked up at him again. "Huh?"

"You know... powers." She continued to stare at him blankly. "Like, can you do things regular people can't?"

"Sam, you're going to have to throw me a bone here. I have no idea what you're asking me." Sam shifted his weight again, obviously trying to say something without actually _saying_ it.

"The guy, Max, he had telekinesis."

"_What?"_

"He could move things with his-"

"I know what telekinesis is!" Eddie overrode him. Sam shied away. "Wait." Eddie pointed at him. "Wait a minute. What can _you_ do?" Sam drew back, seemingly caught off guard by her question, but the tinge of guilt on his expression wasn't lost on her. She didn't back down, and after a moment, Sam must have realized that he wasn't getting out of this.

"I have visions."

"You're psychic."

"It doesn't work like that," he quickly corrected her. Eddie, on the other hand, felt half of her mouth lift in a lopsided grin.

"What's my future? House in the suburbs? Two kids? A dog? Not one of those yappy things, I hate-"

"-_it's not like that." _Sam said again, forcefully this time. "And I'm serious. It's not funny." He looked hurt, and Eddie kicked herself. Here he was trying to comfort her, and she'd turned around and made a joke out of something that was obviously bothering him.

"Hey." Eddie clapped him on the shoulder, and rubbed his back amiably. "Of course it's funny, right? At least a little?" She smiled, making her voice as gentle as possible. "'Cause if it isn't funny, then it's just terrifying." Her hand moved down to his bicep. "I wasn't trying to be an ass, promise."

Sam was mollified, and accepted the apology with a nod. "You didn't answer my question." He looked up at her tentatively, his eyes scanning hers.

"If I have any powers?" She let her hand slide down his arm, back to her drink. "'Fraid not, Sammy." He reacted visibly to the nickname, but not unfavorably. Eddie decided that it felt a little strange to say, fuller in her mouth than just 'Sam', but with an appropriate amount of affection. "Not part of the X-Men. Kind of wish I was, though. Sounds cool."

Sam judged her for a moment, clearly trying to decide if he believed her or not. He must have, because he just smiled, and took another drink of his beer. Eddie figured that meant it was fair game to start ribbing him again. Besides, the mood needed a little lightening. "Well, telekinesis sounds cool. Visions that you can't even control? Kiiind of lame. You drew the short straw there, buddy."

Sam laughed, and she must have caught him in the sweet spot because he ungracefully snorted his drink. Eddie grinned triumphantly, and handed him a couple napkins. He wiped his face, setting the beer down with a clink. "Not funny," he croaked, nasal passage burning from the carbonation.

Eddie bit her bottom lip, not out of nerves this time but playful happiness. Sam was a great target - she'd have to keep that in mind for the future. That, and the psychic-powers thing.

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	9. Dead Man's Blood Pt 1

**A/N: **Been a little while, but I've got a sizable backlog worked up. If you read along all the way up to this point, please shoot me a review with your opinion - positive or negative as it may be. Thanks!

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**Chapter Five: Dead Man's Blood**

**(Part One)**

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As much as Sam had resented being drawn back into his brother's lifestyle months ago, he had to admit, it was good to have a case again. They'd been left high and dry for a little while, and he'd had to watch as Dean and Eddie slowly went stir-crazy. At first he had thought they'd finally hook up, after all the almost-not-quite flirting they did. Then he thought they might just end up killing each other. Sam had been nearing the end of his own limits when one particularly nasty fight had erupted over whether hot dogs were meant to be eaten with or without ketchup.

"Maybe it's just that time of the month," Dean had posed to him one night after Eddie had gone back to her room. Sam had snorted at his brother's eloquent way with words, lounging on his bed and surfing the Internet.

"If you say that to her, I'm not stepping in to save you from the well-deserved beating you get." Dean grumbled, and Sam refrained from telling him what he _really_ thought: that Dean was just as cranky, if not more so, than Eddie.

Luckily, they'd found something in the paper. A guy had been mauled to death in his home, and robbed: a guy named Daniel Elkins, who also showed up in Dad's book. It was the best lead they'd had in a while, and the trio of hunters had sprung at the opportunity. Now they were trespassing in the dead man's Colorado cabin, and had just passed what was definitely a ring of salt by the door.

"I swear," Eddie said from her corner of the room. They each had their own penlights, and the light beams crisscrossed over the area. "You've seen the home of one crotchety old dude-hunter, you've seen them all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, though not too testily.

"I'm just saying, not a whole lot of girl power going on in our field." Eddie was inspecting a bookshelf, and Sam found a desk. There were a ton of odds and ends that all looked foreign and vaguely dangerous.

"Well, sorry we don't Spice Up Your Life enough." Dean's back was to him, so he missed Sam's smirk. He happened to be aware that his older brother had had an huge thing for one of the Spice Girls back in the day. There was one in particular...

"Check this out." Dean was hunched down at the corner of the room's throw rug, inspecting the wooden floor.

"Got something?" Eddie walked over, and as she did, Dean stood up and grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil from the late Elkins' desk. He bent back down, and rubbed the graphite on the back of the paper against the spot he'd been looking at. When he stood back up, an outline of numbers was imprinted on the sheet.

Sam immediately recognized the pattern. "Three letters, six digits—the location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop."

"That's just the way Dad does it."

Sure enough, their father met them outside of the Post Office.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

Dean wasn't really asleep when John said it was time to go. He was faking, listening instead to the radio that his father was bent over. He had a suspicion that both Sam and Eddie were doing the same.

_Eddie._ Dean held in a huff that would have given him away. She was curled up on the sofa in their motel room, so that they were all in one spot. Of course, both he and Sam _would_ have offered their beds, but the last time they tried, she'd practically blown a fuse. She'd insisted on a rock-paper-scissors game, and then, Dean thought, lost on purpose. In a way he appreciated that she wanted to be treated the same way they'd treat each other, but it was also infuriating. Probably because he _wanted_ to treat her better than he treated himself, and yeah, even Sam. Wanted to treat her like he'd treat any girl... maybe not any girl.

"Sam, Dean, Eddie. Let's go." The three of them 'woke up' quickly; Sam probably did the best at pretending he'd been asleep, but Eddie didn't even bother. She was pulling her boots on before Dean had even gotten out of the bed. Even in the dim light, he could see how eager she was, and he realized that it had less to do with hunting vampires, and everything to do with hunting with John. It was an expression he'd seen in the mirror on those few days when he'd been allowed to accompany his father, before the glow of it had worn off.

He ignored it the best he could.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

Eddie rode with John; not because he asked her to, or even gave her permission really, but because she hopped up into the passenger side of his truck before he could get in a real protest. If riding with John wasn't enough of a treat, Eddie would have been happy just to get away from Sam and Dean. They'd been climbing the walls lately, and a break from them was nice. She was already all buckled in by the time John got behind the wheel.

"What do you think about me changing my name?" She asked him as the car started. John didn't look like he was in the mood for humor, but she learned long ago that he _never_ did, so you just had to take your chances.

"What to?" He asked gruffly, taking the bait. The Impala trailed them as they got onto the highway.

"_Eddie the Vampire Slayer._"

He gave her a hard look, to which she smiled innocently. She braced herself for a 'this is serious business these things are dangerous they already killed one hunter' speech. Instead, John turned back to the road, briefly looking out the window. "It's a little too campy for me."

Victorious, Eddie giggled quietly, and double-checked her weapons pockets. Vampires would be superhumanly fast and strong, and they didn't have all the horror movie weaknesses. Decapitation was the surest way to kill them. Eddie had a machete sheathed at her side - definitely not something you'd walk down the street with, but the weight of it had felt good when she'd strapped it on. _Don't get cocky,_ she ordered herself. Seeing as pride was her deadly sin of choice, just behind wrath, it was easier said than done. But she'd have to try; making a fool of herself in front of John Winchester was not an option.

She couldn't ruin this. Her nature prevented her from saying it out loud, but it was too overwhelming to hide from herself: she was _happy._ Eddie felt like she _belonged._ They were about to wipe out a nest of vampires, John and his sons and _her,_ and afterwards they could all get a drink and-

There was a roar as the Impala passed them, cutting them off and then slowing down. John slammed on the brakes, and the Impala pulled over, forcing him to do the same. Sam and Dean got out of the car, and Eddie was left sitting in the cabin as John did the same. Hurrying to catch up, she slid out onto the ground, closing the truck's door behind her.

"What the hell was that?" John walked towards Sam, who'd been driving. Eddie slowed down when she heard the tone in John's voice. She knew that tone. Dean shot her a warning glance, and she altered her path, sidling up next to him instead. However much they'd antagonized each other over the past few days, it was forgotten.

"We need to talk." Sam squared his shoulders, and Eddie was reminded just how big he was. The stern edge in his voice was not unlike John's, but she'd never heard him use it before, even when scolding his brother and her. Eddie cautioned a look at Dean, who looked back at her, offering an apologetic wince.

"About what?"

"About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?"

"Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires." Dean took a half step forward, and Eddie shrank back. Watching this was making her intensely uncomfortable.

"Your brother's right, we don't have time for this." Seemed pretty reasonable to her. Eddie just wanted to get back in the car and pretend this altercation hadn't happened. There was stuff to do; they could sort things out later.

_Just like after the Daevas?_ A voice in the back of her head asked. John had disappeared again, with absolutely minimal contact. Who was to say that they wouldn't finish off these vampires, only to have him take off again without explaining anything?

_John wouldn't,_ she tried to tell herself, but she knew that was a lie. He would. He _had._

"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help. Now, obviously, something big is going down, and we want to know what!" As much as witnessing this was making her want to crawl away into a hole, Sam's argument was winning her over.

"Get back in the car." John didn't sound like he was going to budge.

"No." Neither did Sam.

"I said get back in the damn car."

"Yeah. And I said no."

_Well this is productive,_ Eddie thought, shifting her weight. On one hand, Sam was holding them up. But John was too, wasn't he? Could it be _that_ complicated of a story that he couldn't just blurt out a two-sentence summary? It'd get Sam off his back, put them all at ease, and get them on their way to the important stuff.

"All right, you made your point, tough guy." Dean moved between his father and his brother, dragging Sam back towards the Impala. "Look, we're all tired. We can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on."

"This is why I left in the first place," Sam muttered under his breath... and not too quietly, either. Eddie swallowed hard.

"What'd you say?" John took a step towards them, and if she wasn't smack between both vehicles, _she _might have gotten in a car - any car - to be away from this situation. As it was, she was stuck in her spot.

Sam whirled back towards his father, Dean still trying fruitless to shuffle him towards the Impala. "You heard me!"

"Yeah." John closed the distance between them, and Dean was pushed aside. "_You_ left. Your brother and me, we needed you. _You _walked away, Sam, _you _walked away!" He actually grabbed Sam's shirt, and Eddie let out a strangled whimper of discomfort. It was all she could do to keep from covering her face with her hands.

"Stop it, both of you!" They didn't listen to Dean.

"You were the one who said 'Don't come back,' Dad. You're the one who closed that door, not me! You were just pissed off you couldn't control me anymore!" Eddie felt something in her begin to change: after staring at the scuffle, she realized that it was her opinion of John. _Don't come back?_ He'd said that to his son? Because Sam hadn't wanted to be a hunter? Something John had tried again and again, ineffectually, to stop her from becoming?

For the first time, Eddie began to realize that John was deeply flawed. She wasn't stupid: she'd always known he'd had his issues. But now, watching him with the two people he should be closest to in his life, an emptiness settled down inside of her. She'd had dreams about what growing up with John as a dad would have been like, and they'd never included scenes like this.

"All right, stop it, stop it—stop it, that's enough!" Dean had finally succeeded in breaking them apart, and gave Sam a hearty push towards the car. "That means you, too." He said, pointing at John. The two men stomped angrily back to their respective vehicles in a way that was so similar that it might have been comic if the air wasn't so tense. "Terrific," Dean grumbled to himself.

Eddie was left standing there, unsure of where to go, when she heard John's voice directed at her. "Eddie, ride with the boys." The door of his truck slammed shut. Even though it wouldn't have been a joyride to have gone with John, being ordered not to still hurt. It must have shown, too, because it took her a couple seconds to realize that Dean was watching her.

She looked over at him, trying to wipe the disappointed look off her face, and forced a thin smile. Dean returned the gesture, and seemed relieved to have someone who wasn't making the whole thing worse. "I guess it's back to the kiddie table, Van Halen."

Eddie let out a genuine laugh. "Too late to call shotgun?"

He smirked, and pulled a companionable arm around her shoulders. Eddie wasn't sure that was _all_ it was, and for that matter, wasn't sure if she _wanted_ that to be all it was. _Don't you dare,_ she commanded herself. This wasn't the time, and she had _rules_ about this sort of thing. The first rule was the simplest and the most important: No Hunters.

"Don't worry. We'll make Sammy cool off in the backseat." Dean gave her shoulder a squeeze and they walked back to the Impala together.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

Sam was brooding, leaning against the passenger side while Dean and John rifled through the weapons in the trunk. "Dad, I got an extra machete if you need one." Even as Dean was reaching to hand it to his father, John waved him away. He pulled out a nicer one. A much nicer one.

"Think I'm okay. Thanks."

"Wow." Dean grabbed a couple more things, and then closed the trunk. He could see Eddie sitting on the hood of his car, her head resting on a drawn-up knee. If she was a dude, he'd have had no trouble telling her to her get her ass off his ride. But she wasn't a dude, and she was pretty much the most badass chick he knew - in real life, at least. Ellen Ripley would forever hold that title otherwise.

"So… three of you really wanna know about this Colt?" Sam's head snapped around, and Dean's eyebrows rose high on his face. Eddie looked back so fast that she nearly tumbled off the hood, only catching herself at the last moment.

"Yes, sir." Sam stood up straight, coming around the side of the car. Eddie scrambled to follow suit.

"It's just a story - a legend, really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter." John began, and the three of them stood around listening like kids at a campfire. "Back in 1835, when Halley's Comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us, only on horseback. The story goes he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. Somehow, Daniel got his hands on it."

John paused meaningfully. "They say... they say this gun can kill anything."

Dean swallowed, felt his heart skip a beat. "Kill anything, like, supernatural anything?"

"Like the-" Sam started.

"-demon." Eddie came in on the last word. Sam and Eddie both gave each other strangely knowing looks, and Dean wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail, I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun… we may have it." The four of them stood in silence, letting the weight of that sink in.


	10. Dead Man's Blood Pt 2

**A/N:** Up next? A little heart-warming interlude.

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**Chapter Five: Dead Man's Blood**

**(Part Two)**

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John watched the vampire, Luther, fall to his knees. The Colt had fired true, and he held his breath as he watched the son of a bitch die: light flashing under his skin until his eyes were glossy and truly dead. He slumped forward.

It worked. The gun worked. It was the Holy Grail for hunters, a mythic weapon that appeared in dreams, and John Winchester had it. And he was going to kill the son of a _bitch_ that had taken his wife from him, ruined his life, and the lives of his sons.

Who'd probably ruined Eddie's life, too.

He was so lost in his imminent revenge, the taste of it already sweet, that he noticed the vampire charging him too late. It was the one he'd used to lore the leader here. Luther had called her Kate, and fury twisted her features into a terrifying mask.

"Kate, don't!" Another vampire woman held her back. "Don't, let's go!"

Though it was clear that she was grieving, that she wanted nothing more than to sink her second set of fangs into him, Kate allowed herself to be dragged back. "This isn't over!" She snarled at John.

"Yeah, it is." Both vampires spun, but Kate would never see her attacker. Eddie gave the machete a great, two-handed swing. There was a soft thud as a mostly-human head hit the asphalt. The other vampire lunged, not at Eddie but past her, sprinting. John was about to shout at Eddie to let her go, that they'd won, that it was unnecessary. Before he could, Eddie pulled a knife. And threw it.

With stunning accuracy, the blade sank hilt deep between the fleeing vampire's shoulder blades. At first nothing happened. Then the woman staggered, eventually dropping to her hands and knees. Weakly, she still moved forward. The blade must have been coated in same blood that the arrows had been.

John was not an easily rattled man, but even he was unnerved at the cool efficiency with which Eddie approached the crumpled form. "Please, I didn't ask for this, my boyfriend-" The vampire begged, fingernails breaking on the concrete as she tried to crawl away. Eddie's expression never changed, and the girl didn't even flinch as she raised the machete again.

She did, however, turn her face away so that the blood wouldn't splatter up into it. Not because she was squeamish, of course, but because just a bit of the stuff in her mouth would mean becoming one of the monsters. Practical. Ruthless. Eddie leaned down, put one boot on the decapitated vampire's back, and used the leverage to pull her knife free. John recognized it as the one he'd given her a decade ago.

For a moment, the weight of the Colt in his hand disappeared. He was left looking at the woman that the little girl from the side of the road had grown into. _His_ little girl, a part of him asserted forcefully. And no matter what he said to anyone, even to himself, he would always think of her that way. Maybe he had no right to, and maybe his presence in her life had done her more harm than good, but she was _his_.

John Winchester wasn't the type of man to sit around wondering whether hunters were born or made, but one thing was for sure. The young woman that approached them now, a bloody knife in one hand and a bloody machete in the other, was without a doubt a hunter. It wasn't about the leather jackets or the muscle car or the bad attitude.

It was the metallic glint in the eyes, the set of the jaw, the solitary walk back after killing a thing which should not be.

It was the ability to pass through this world on the outskirts, stalking the dark places and culling the evils that festered there.

Eddie looked up at him, oblivious to his introspection. Her expression, the hunter's scowl, melted. He watched her eyes widen and her lips curl, face infused with emotion that had been devoid from it a second ago. John almost forgot everything he'd just thought: her smile warmed through him, and she was his surrogate daughter again.

"It works?" She grinned, and there was a feral obsession coiled in it, something oddly familiar.

"It works." He replied, and realized as he grinned back that it was familiar because she'd learned it from him.

x-x-x-x-x-x  
x-x-x-x-x-x

"_Make it quick, the guard's gonna be back around soon."_

_Eddie jumped over the railing to the floor below, rather than taking the short set of stairs. Dean stayed above, watching through the window on the door into the hallway. The morgue was silent at night, and even though Dean had torched dozens of remains, seeing the body-shaped lumps under their white sheets was more than a little creepy. Below him, Eddie walked towards them, digging out a jar and a knife from her backpack._

"_How is this going to work? Are they even going to bleed right if their hearts aren't pumping anymore?"_

"_I don't know, just do it, okay?"_

"_I'm going, I'm going." He watched her pull the sheet back from one of the bodies. Underneath was an elderly woman, her skin gone gray and blotchy. Eddie gagged, and Dean knew that it was from the horrific odor of built up gases in the corpse's intestines and stomach. Even if he couldn't smell it from where he was standing, he felt sick thinking about it. He looked back out the door's in-set window. Coast still clear._

"_Well well." Dean turned back to see Eddie draping the sheet back over the woman. Instead, she was walking towards the wall of lockers that held more of the corpses. Easily the most nightmarish aspect of this damn room. Dean didn't want to imagine laying inside one of those stainless stee, refrigerated cabinets._

"_What is it?"_

"_Found the leftovers of our blood-sucking friends." Before he could ask what she was talking about, Eddie grabbed a hold of the latch on one of the doors and swung it open. _

"_Hey! Cut it out! We've got work to do, we have to meet Dad and Sam in an hour!" They didn't have time for her to engage in whatever weird curiosity she had going on over there. They needed to stick to a time frame. That, and Dean was half convinced that if he left his father and his brother alone long enough, they'd end up killing _each other _instead of any vampires._

_Eddie slid out the rack with a body on it, and pulled back the sheet. Underneath was a young man, his throat a tangled mess where the fiends had bitten through muscle and tendon. Dean's jaw tightened. He was going to enjoy putting an end to those things._

"_What do you say?" Eddie asked him, still staring down at the body._

"_What do I say to what?" She raised her knife, and gestured towards the dead man. Dean caught on - and not for the first time, thought that Eddie might have been a little twisted in the head. Not that this whole thing wasn't twisted. And not that he didn't kind of _like _that about her._

"_That's a little _too _morbid, don't you think?" She flashed him a smile that was bright even in the dim blue light of the morgue._

"_It's not morbid," she replied. "It's justice." _

_Then she collected what little blood the vampires hadn't taken._


End file.
